


Cover Band

by Soobiebear



Category: Megadeth
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-06 19:23:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 34,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13417989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soobiebear/pseuds/Soobiebear
Summary: Written for RockFic's 2016 Just A Tribute challenge.  Junior invites Dave out to watch a Cover Band.  Smut happens.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Pairings are DE/OMC and DM/OMC with DM/DE inferred but not acted upon.  
> I tried to do something different with the point of view, both Dave and David being insistent on telling their side of the story. Dave is in red and David is in blue.
> 
> Takes place in January 2017.

  
Winter NAMM, a time that I hated but dragged myself to every year. Not that California in January was bad - hell no, Tennessee was having record cold and snowfall this year. It was the sycophantic nature of it all. Industry only all the papers read, but aside from a small handful of people most of these idiots hadn't seen a tour or a studio ever. Sadly, with my trademark hair I was noticeable anywhere but especially here. Everyone begged for a photo, an autograph, a hug and a kiss and here's my hotel room number. Well, maybe not the latter so much anymore if I was being honest.  
I hung out mostly on the second floor, the long escalators bringing me from the unwashed masses on the main convention floor to the more intimate showrooms. It was darker, quieter, perfect for meeting the people I needed to meet and avoiding the ones I didn't want to see.  
A session with Dean and a shorter one with Seymour Duncan tomorrow and my obligations were fulfilled. I wasn't quite sure how David handled three days and six sessions without going insane. Xanax in his Starbucks, except I knew David was clean. Some miracle of God gave that man all the patience and tolerance I lacked.

@@@@@@@@

  
NAMM, what a wonderful time. Tons of faces new and old, every single one of them excited to be a part of such a dynamic and vibrant industry. I slipped my black laminate around my neck, pulling my hair out from underneath the strap. My empty cup was dumped in the nearest trashcan. Fully caffeinated, I was ready to hit the first booth of the day after a small detour to the Starbucks in the hotel lobby. SIT had been such a wonderful company to work with in addition to having great products. It was the least I could do to spend a hour with them and draw some traffic to their little booth. All I had to do was find it, looking up at the ceiling for the hanging booth numbers. 2353 would be that way, and I set out with an upbeat stride. Never knew who you were going to see at these things.

 

@@@@@@@@@

  
Five hours of waiting and I was bored. I didn't need a new guitar or a new amp supplier. Everything I had was working quite well. I sent a quick text to Chris Adler, knowing he was here somewhere in the musician zoo and waited for a reply. I texted David too, bugging people I knew I could safely harass. Dirk was here somewhere, off in drum land. Fred stayed home as did Kiko.

Those twins were taking a toll on the younger man, but it was good to see him so happy. It reminded me of when my own kids had been born. A bunch of the Nashville crew were here too, all of them working and not here on a vacation. I didn't bother them; I could talk to them back home under much better conditions.

David was the first to text back.

_Invited to see a band tonight sounds good wanna go?_

Normally I was selective about appearances. It was either hang out with David (the world’s best designated driver) or hit up the orgy at the Hilton. It wouldn't be until late, long after the trash had walked off into the night and everyone else headed upstairs, up another long set of escalators. The heavy perfume and silicone perfection used to be exciting when it was something new, something high class and unreachable. Now it was just tired, makeup applied with a trowel to cover up blemishes not even a paper bag could fix.

_Yeah, but you're driving._

I hadn't reserved a car service for tonight, not wanting to ride for the long trek back to Justis' house in San Diego. I'd rented a room, or rather the management company had rented a room for me with the option to cancel last minute depending on my plans. It would certainly make Day Two easier crashing in Anaheim before heading home Saturday night.

 

@@@@@@@@@  


_Great!_ David texted back, having to reread Dave's message twice, not actually expecting him to go out to a little local bar. I'd tell Dave about it later when it was harder for him to turn around and stomp off. A fellow bass player had come up to me at the Mono Case signing, going on about how I influenced him and Megadeth was his favorite. There had been a spark to the kid that I liked, finding out he was playing tonight down the road was an added bonus and I promised to stop by and check them out. I was always looking for new acts for the EMP label, and the kid seemed pretty smart with a good head on his shoulders. That was half the battle when scouting bands, the music was almost secondary to their attitudes and personalities. One heroin addict could quickly derail the best band, as I found out many years ago.

Dave was gonna shit himself and I smirked, always good to get one up on Dave.

 

@@@@@@@@@

I should never have agreed without asking more questions. It was David and I didn't question. Strike one up in the shame on me category. He drove us in his rented Chevy up the main drag going zero miles an hour in the stalled traffic from both the convention and Disneyland.

"Who did ya say is playing again?" I was in the passenger seat and looked out at the walking hordes. People were fascinating to watch as long as they didn't watch back.

David coughed. "Guy I met today, his band is playing in Orange and I said I'd stop in."

I grunted. "Better not be some faggoty country shit."

"Nah, metal, maybe some hard rock." David smiled to himself and I pretended not to notice. It wasn't like him to hold back information from me. "They're young, but it sounds good."

"What’re they called?" I watched a particularly hot mom juggle a sleeping toddler on her hip while corralling an older child. Her tshirt stretched against her bra as she reached for the runaway kid. I could see the lace pattern. It looked like Frederick’s.

David wiped at his nose. Now I knew he was hiding something from me. It was one of the nervous ticks I wasn't even sure he knew about. "Gigaded."

Slowly I turned away from hot mom to look at him. My eyebrows felt like they were halfway into my hairline. "Gigaded?" I repeated.

He turned to face me, hair flopping around his face like it always had. "Yeah, cool huh?" He smiled before turning his attention back to the traffic jam.

"You're taking me to see my own tribute band?"

His head tipped slightly, the thin light casting strange shadows. "Yeah, the bass player is really cool and it'll make their lives you know." He let loose that little chuckle of his. I wondered how long he'd been pissing himself with laughter keeping the details from me. "Just for a little bit, then you can come back and be a grump all by yourself if you want."

"I'm not grumpy," I argued. I just wasn't cut out to be as social as he was without massive amounts of narcotics or alcohol.

David's eyes flickered to me as he crept along the road. "Just behave, ok? They're good kids." 

"When don't I behave anymore?"

David gripped the steering wheel as he stared at the endless line of brake lights.

 

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David parked the car in front of some nondescript apartment block.

For a little shithole venue it looked spectacularly shitty, big vinyl sign strung to the bricks proclaiming 'Karaoke Tonight'. Hopefully someone just forgot to take it down. It look a lot for me to do karaoke and David wasn’t the sort to buy an entire bottle of vodka. "This it?"

I sneered at the run down building. While not as bad as some places we played back in the day, it wasn’t exactly neat and tidy. I hope David got extra insurance on his rental - we might be missing some hubcaps by the time we get out.

Across the road were some elevated train tracks. David certainly knew how to pick his clubs. The two unoccupied wooden chairs by the door added to the sketchiness of it all.

"Positive." He tucked the keyfob into his pocket. "C’mon."

We were stopped at the door. Thankfully neither of us were carded, but the $5 cover made me grind my teeth. "Five bucks to hear my own shit played back at me?" I grumbled, but David opened his wallet and paid for both of us. I sneered at the obese doorman, who had been giving us questionable looks since David paid for both of us.

At least I wasn’t recognized.

"Shut up, man," David grumbled under his breath.

The door opened and 'Rattlehead' hit me full in the face. It was sloppy, poorly mixed, and overly loud for the small venue. I tugged at David’s arm and pointed at the bar. This could be a long night depending on how much he wanted to socialize.

I surveyed the beers on tap, cheap kegs guaranteed to give me the runs. Not a single selection from Unibroue. The middle aged bartender made her way through the thin crowd. I ordered a Budweiser and a 7Up for David, she promptly gave me a sweaty can of Bud Light. At least I wouldn’t be getting drunk tonight. Twenty bucks should cover it, so when she gave me back eighteen I shrugged and left her a dollar on the bar.

David took his 7Up and watched the kids on stage. Poor lighting and bad mix, the highlights of any struggling band. "Thought you said they were good?"

He shrugged, eyes fixed on the singer. He screamed into the mic. I hated to tell him what that would do to his throat in twenty years. Another guitarist, apparently the lead, working his way though what he thought was a solo. Drummer, in the dark in the back tripping over his own foot. Didn’t need a double kick and was riding it waaay to hard. Stage left was the bass player David had talked about.

I sucked on my beer to cover up the way my lips dropped open.

Painted on jeans and a tshirt so tight it was surprising he could breathe. Dirty white sneakers, long wavy hair bouncing with the song. A nose parted his hair as he threw his head back and shook, nose more aqualine than David’s own but still too big for his face. Large eyes, sweat already starting to run down into those dark eyes, eyes looking right at me and knowing...

Sipping at my beer again I broke the eye contact. Christ on a stick if it wasn’t one of David’s bastard children I’d eat my Marshalls.

 

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It hadn’t quite been the club David had been expecting. The neighborhood had changed a bit since the last time he was here, but there didn’t seem to be any bums or graffiti, so it had to be pretty safe. Right? Plausible deniability. The bar was at the end of the small shopping strip, and the car was parked right next to the side of the venue. It would be really easy to skate out if things got bad, plus the car was a rental. Who cared really? That’s what insurance and Uber was for.

Dave grumbled about the run down plaza. The seclusion and greener pastures his fortune had brought him changing his attitude about ungentrified areas. Most nobody was bad, and the few that were intent on some crime or another were everywhere; Dave’s ritzy subdivision as well as the more salt of the earth places like this. It was good to be out among normal people every once in a while, kept one’s head screwed on as my father would have put it.

There was a bouncer at the door collecting cover charges. I raised my eyebrow to ask how much. Dave grumbled again. Good thing I had a ten on me, quietly sliding it to the bouncer. What the hell was ten bucks anyway? Less than a days worth of coffee. Inside the bar was run down as well, truly a local dive bar. Without drinking anymore I rarely got to see places like this. It smelled the same as it did thirty years ago; cheap beer, piss, and sweat. The only thing missing was the cigarette odor.

The band was already on stage, full out rocking along with our music. The crowd seemed tolerant. It was ok. I nodded at the bassist, watching as he tried to get the halftime swing down. He’d been to one of my clinics or was a natural.

Dave tapped my arm and nodded towards the bar. I nodded back. He was drinking more lately but didn’t seem too out of control with it. Hopefully he could manage. He went through his wine phase ok, with luck the beer phase would pass too.

I stood in the middle of the room, where the sound should be the best. Their PA looked rather haggard and sounded like a few of the cones needed replacing. Someone’s amp buzzed underneath it all. Dave brought me back a plastic cup of something and I sipped. Sprite or 7Up, enough to wet my palate. All the grease in the McDonald's we had for dinner was starting to knot my guts.

'Skull Beneath the Skin' started up. Maybe they only covered our first album, that would be an interesting concept for a band. It was early still, barely ten o’clock. They probably had hours left to go in their set.

Dave sucked in a breath next to me. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him choke down a mouthful of his beer, chugging from the can. The bass player was looking at us and I nodded to him as he recognized us.

I gave the rest of the band a once over. Drummer was almost hidden in the back, adequate but nothing special. Probably didn’t fit the image they were going for, a teacher or cop during the daytime. 

Lead guitarist, bless his soul, he was trying. We’d always had great players and Poland’s stuff was some of the hardest to pull off - not a big surprise when this guy missed a few frets or bends didn’t quite make it. I’d gave him one hundred percent credit for trying. He was working it at the front of the stage trying to get the front row moving around a bit instead of just passively listening.

The Dave character growled as he violently strummed out a rhythm. There was a reason it was called thrash metal. His hair was straight and long, but every bit as red as Dave’s had once been. It was probably a wig, but I always had a thing for redheads. The rest of the package was very nice, slim but very masculine, strong shoulders and square hips. Muscles borne out of daily hard work and not indulgent hours at the gym. Where he found those retro 80’s high waisted acid washed jeans was another issue. They simply didn’t make them like that anymore and they fit perfectly, clinging to his thighs and bunching at his ankles.

Thank god he had a better voice than Dave, not that I would ever mention it. Still higher than average and a bit nasally, the whiny tone Dave had was absent, a more melodic tone replacing it. He did a fair imitation of Dave but had clearly done other things before signing up for a Megadeth cover band.

The soda had already gone flat but I had another sip, mostly an excuse to tear my eyes from the singer. Damn, back in the day I would have been all over that. If Dave wasn’t around. I decided just to appreciate the view. No harm in looking. Maybe we could stick around tonight after the show a bit, chat a little. Wouldn’t hurt to get a name and phone number, after all they are playing our songs. They might want some pointers about the music business. 

Always good to make connections.

 

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@  


Holy shit, I thought my dick was gonna break the zipper of my jeans. I’m not gay, not at all, but I can appreciate and recognize male beauty when I see it. The kid had to be an Ellefson. He was the right age for when we were fucking anything with a pulse. You never knew. Those big doe eyes stared at me as he played, headbanging and tossing his hair. The bass hid his slim hips, he was all shoulders much like Junior had been back in the day. His ass was small when he turned to the drummer. Small and firm, framed perfectly by that stretch denim. I could bounce quarters off of that.

Shit, I could bounce my hips off of that for hours. If I was gay. I’m not gay. That pale skin streaked with sweat glistened under the lights, his shirt and jeans already starting to darken where the moisture collected.

He probably smelled like apples too. And cinnamon. Fucking Ellefson bloodline. 

He held up his bass at the end of 'Hook In Mouth', his shirt revealing a flat stomach and belly button, no body hair trailing down into his jeans to get stuck on my tongue.

I needed another beer.

 

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I had to watch my feet. There was a crack in the floor about a third of the way to the stage. That was my line. My toes ghosted the line but couldn't go over. Anything closer would be too much, too close, another firey redhead not what I needed in my life. Dave got sodas for me every time he got a beer. He was downing them a lot faster than I could, but the stack of plastic cups gave me something to occupy my hands.

Dave circled around me, breaking my self imposed do not cross line and working his way towards the front of the small crowd. He gave the singer a quick listen before, oddly enough, checking out the bass player. I wasn't quite so bold, preferring to keep my distance. Dave nodded along to the beat, not quite headbanging but more into it than I thought he'd be. Then again, I was surprised when Kiko showed me the video of them doing karaoke in Shanghai. 

Then Kiko had panned his phone over the line of tequila shots and I knew why Dave was singing 'Get Back' in a Chinese bar.

The bass player was eating it up too. The singer kept the rest of the crowd entertained, and there was a small section of women watching the lead guitarist, but the bass player was all about Dave. Even the singer was throwing the odd glare at him, snarling as his bassist posed and headbanged. I knew Dave's body language; with a hip jutted out and shoulders squared he was on the hunt. 

There was little chance of getting out of here before closing time, unless he got in a fight and we were 'asked' to leave. Wish I knew how Kiko got him to drink but kept him peaceful. Wait, did I think that? Nevermind, I don't want to know what Kiko did to him. 

My attention went back to the singer. He didn't move around much between the guitar and microphone, but his knees were bent as he cradled his Flying V. It was one of Dave's models, probably worth a small fortune to a bar band. True to form he sneered at everyone and snarled out the words his alter ego had written. It was enticingly delicious, watching him stalk the stage between verses like a hungry predator. I never really saw Dave in his prime from the audience. Eventually I stepped over the line too, drawn to the stage and the hot lights. Sweat clung to his hair, pulling it straighter than it really was. 

He wrapped up the song and pushed the hair off of his forehead, announcing it was set break time. He made eye contact with me, making it clear he wanted to talk to me. Good, I wanted to talk to him too. If he was this close to Mustaine he was probably on something, and I'd have to be very judicious about the mentions of EMP. I wouldn't mind getting a few promo shots somehow. Dirk's wife was a photographer and I wouldn't even have to creatively stretch the truth.

 

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Set break. I stared at the bassist but let him set his guitar on a stand. He looked longer without the fucking plank of wood covering him up. He jumped off the low stage, right in front of me.

"Drink?" Mine was empty. He needed one.

"Fuck yeah," he breathed, winded from playing. His chest heaved against his sweat soaked shirt and I hoped he would just take it off. It was horrible to play in soaked clothes. He led me over to the bar, occasionally shaking hands with someone or quickly saying hi. Most everyone backed off when they saw me trailing behind him. Those jeans hung low on his hips, no signs of a phone or wallet in the pockets. Had to remember to look up on occasion and watch where I was going. 

Somehow he pulled a chip out of his front pocket and handed it to the barmaid, getting a draft beer for his effort. "You drinkin' Bud?" He tipped his cup at my empty can and I shook my head. I wasn't getting anywhere with beer and it was starting to taste like shit.

"Two double Patron's, salt the rim," I had to shout over the noise. The bar had started up the jukebox again, downing out any chance of talking. The glasses were pushed at us as she scuttled off to deal with other orders. I looked directly at him as I licked the salt from the edge before downing half the pour. He stared back and downed his in two gulps, leaving most of the salt before slamming the glass on the bar. Whatever breath he had left was stolen by the alcohol.

I chuckled. If he thought he could outdrink me I might have to take it as a challenge. I tasted the rest of the salt, finishing my own drink. "So what's your name? Tell me your name." I had to lean in close, no desire to scream over the music. 

He downed a mouthful of beer, desperately trying to not let his eyes water. "Chris," he leaned into my ear, breath spilling over the skin of my neck. 

"Chris?" I asked with a smile. It was a good name. Strong. "Mine's Dave." He pulled back a bit, eyes tracing the stray hairs that fell out of my beanie and the curve of my lips. I leaned in closer again. "What d'ya like to drink?"

Chris backed away again, fiddling with his cheap beer. "Long Island iced tea."

A strong drink for a strong man. I was intrigued. "Wanna try something?" He could handle what I had in mind, I was sure of it. Not trusting the bartender, I grabbed a napkin and a pen from the cash register, scribbling down the directions for the mix. Chris looked over my arm as I wrote. A dive like this wasn't about to have Covousier, but the Frangelico and Baileys they should have. "Two, Collins glasses." The bartender nodded silently, off on the hunt for the rarely used alcohol. 

"What is it?" Even though the napkin was long gone Chris hung close too me. This end of the bar wasn't as crowded as the section closer to the stage where people were crushed together. 

Our barstools were already side my side, I managed to scoot even closer, sharing my little secret. "It's a French Quaalude," I had to shout into his ear. My nose brushed his hair. It was soft. "You'll like it."

Chris chugged his beer and I watched his throat work. The prominent adam's apple was all Ellefson. That throat would feel great swallowing around my dick.

When the drinks arrived he cautiously took a sniff before taking a big swig. "Whoa, slow down. Don't chug." It wasn't perfect, not like the ones Gar used to mix up, but it was close enough. The ice clinked as I set mine back on the bar. 

"It's sweet," he commented. With that much Baileys it should be. The cognac would knock him for a loop quickly.

I pushed my nose against his skin and inhaled his scent. "So are you," I murmured, letting my lips flutter against his flesh, smiling when he didn't pull away. A blush rose on his cheeks, I could feel it before I saw it.

 

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Dave and the bassist quickly retreated to a corner of the bar while I stood there in the milling crowd, waiting for the exodus to the restroom. The lead walked off the stage to small applause and the drummer beelined for the door, pack of smokes already in hand. The singer put up his guitar and flipped his amp head on standby, ambling around the stage and the last one to leave.

Casually he walked down the small flight of stairs and made his way through the crowd in my direction. "You must be David," he said when he got close.

"Guilty," I chuckled.

"Chris said you might be out. It's good to meet you." Chris was the bassist, I'd forgotten his name. It would figure he'd be either a Chris or another Dave. "I'm Chris."

"Oh, no, not you too." I took his hand and shook, knowing all too well the pain of having multiple same names in a band.

"Yeah, we even have a Dave," he hooked his thumb back to the empty drum riser. "I think he went for a smoke."

"You guys rock. It's great to see metal getting out there and our songs being played." Chris lifted his hair and fanned his the back of his neck. The ends of his hair curled and I wondered just how curly it was when it wasn't straightened.

He pointed at his face. "It was a no brainer for me, I just had to work on the act a bit." He snarled and curled his lip, getting close to impersonating Dave in his youth. 

"You wanna drink?" The bar was getting crowded, and the club turned on the jukebox, Volbeat blaring from the speakers. It would be hard to talk over the noise without tearing my throat up.

Chris shook his head. "Don't drink," he shouted, but waived me after him as he headed to the bar. He held up two fingers to the bartender and was handed to Red Bull cans, one of which was handed to me. He pointed to the door and I followed him, knowing the material was already hard on his voice without trying to shout over jukebox music.

I found Dave on my way out, sitting at the far end of the bar, deep in conversation with the other Chris. An assortment of empty glasses piled in front of them. He didn't look over at me so I left him alone for now. He'd let me know when he had too much.

The night air was cool, almost chilly. It felt good after the heat of the bar and must have felt really good to the sweaty Chris. 

Chris was leaning against the brick, under the karaoke sign they'd seen when they'd arrived. His head was tipped back and one foot rested against the wall, can dangling loosely against his thigh. He could have passed for Dave circa 1985 except for the curls.

I saddled up next to him, enjoying the quiet. "Thanks for the drink." I popped the tab and sipped, the caffeine making up for the lack of coffee since supper. 

"No problem." Chris stretched his neck and stood up straight, cracking his own drink. "Bar gives 'em away free. Chris more than drinks my share." Chris scratched at his scalp. "Yeah, he's a bit of a loose cannon most of the time. People say our personalities are switched. They're probably right."

"So, gotta ask. Is your hair naturally curly?" It looked like it was. I hoped it was.

He dragged fingers through it, holding strands out for me under the light. "Yeah, friggin' hate it. Used to keep it short until I realized the girls like it. Still hate the curls." Chris smoothed the hank of hair back with the others. "Sister's a hairdresser, does a relaxer on it about once a month. The rest I hit up with a straightner."

I looked at his face in the harsh light, the strong jaw and square forehead lended itself to being softened by some volume. "You should leave it natural, I bet it would look good. Dave always got laid constantly because of his hair."

"Yeah?" He shook out his mane, sending the length shimmering around his face.

"Oh yeah," I answered. The hair among other things, but I would be happy enough seeing Chris with natural hair. "You've got the bone structure for it."

He seemed to think about it before taking another sip. "Back at NAMM tomorrow?" Chris looked hopeful, he was probably going as well.

I always booked up my NAMM weekend, visiting as many booths as I could during the four days. Why would I go to Anaheim with nothing to do? I spent enough time waiting while on tour; my time off needed to keep me moving. "Yeah, big signing at Jackson tomorrow, you should come over, I'll introduce you to Grover Jackson."

Eyes went wide under his hangs. "Man, I can't ask that of you."

He was polite and sincere, something Dave certainly hadn't been at that age. I hated to see how the other Chris was acting if him and Dave had similar personalities. "You didn't. He's pretty laid back. I know you play Dean's, but it's good to make as many connections as you can."

"I got a Jackson at home, it's a beat up Kelly. One of the pickups doesn't work so I never bring it out."

People started to crowd around them on the sidewalk, drinks in hand they escaped to cooler air before the next set started. "They sound good, you should have it fixed." 

Chris scoffed. "When I win the lottery I'll bring it in. Toyota doesn't pay much."

I bit back a groan. Chris didn't know how deep the similarities ran. I could see him, covered in grease, laying under a car on a crawler. Yeah, I could see that. 

"Let's go over there, too crowded for me." Chris pointed to the end of the building, over by where I'd parked the car. The cigarette smoke was getting oppressive as everyone smoked by the door.

 

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Chris had to run back on stage, his bandmates already waiting for him and sending dirty glances our way. He waivered on his feet without the barstool support, finding his balance before parting the crowd. I didn't dare stand up yet, it was more fun to watch him walk away, shouldering into his bass and quickly trying to tune up as the bar cut the jukebox.

David dropped down on Chris' abandoned stool, pulling it a slight, proper distance away from mine. I eyed the big hickey on David's neck. It was fucking obvious even in the dim light and I raised my eyebrows. The bartender had cleared all the evidence of mine and Chris' drinks, leaving me with an innocent can of Guinness.

"You having a good time?" I tried not to stare at his jaw line or the cat got the canary grin. His can of energy drink landed on the bar, empty judging by the hollow ring.

"Yeah, you know, it's alright." The corner of his mouth twitched as he fought a smirk. Why David, I didn't know you still had it in you. He'd mastered the pump and dump once I explained to him what California girls were about and he quickly became a master. 

"You get lucky?" Wouldn't have been the first time he'd disappeared somewhere only to show up ten minutes later floating on an orgasmic cloud.

David scoffed but refused to answer. "You alright? Want to stay?" I could tell he wanted to stay, but was too polite to impose.

I shrugged, baiting him. "Eh, if you want." I wasn't fucking leaving unless the cops dragged me out, but I wasn't about to tell him that.

He was trying to play it cool and failing miserably. "Yeah, sure. I'm used to staying up late." David checked his watch. "It's still early."

The band started up again, struggling to get through an edited version of 'Holy Wars'. Good on them for trying, too bad I had to hear it. David rocked in his chair along with the song, keeping the beat and occasionally ending up on the wrong side of the band's one. What could you expect from a bar band? At least Chris had started to sweat again. 

I might just have to go watch closer. Make sure he hits the right frets. Can’t have a bassist get too out of line. Just might do that if I can get my feet to cooperate.

Deciding to play it cool I stayed in my chair. That was the great thing about confidence. Chris would spend time with his fans like he should, but ultimately he would make his way over to me. I just had to wait. He was already eating out of my palm. Would David be upset if I fucked in his car?

Nah, it’s a rental.

 

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Chris was killing me. Now that he knew we were here, Megadeth, the guys that wrote the songs they played, he wouldn’t stop looking at us for approval. Some of the crowd started to follow his gaze, for the most part leaving us alone thankfully. I’m sure we’d get asked for a few photos later. Dave had a way of sneering, especially when drunk, that made even the most ardent fans think twice about autographs.

Dave never wiggled his hips like that on stage or bit his lip when he groaned, eyes closed and teeth against the microphone. The nice guy Chris disappeared and the Dave character made a reappearance, swearing and kicking and ruthlessly cutting people down between songs. Most of the drunken patrons deserved it, Megadeth always did seem to bring out the assholes. His overaggression compensated for the fact that he seemed to be a genuinely nice guy when he wasn’t in character. 

The macho display was beautifully done, like a peacock strutting it’s feathers. Despite the long hair, thick eyelashes, and ruby lips there was no doubting Chris was a man. 

They seemed to be running through the entire Rust in Peace set, no easy feat to pull off. Next to me Dave cringed every time something went discordantly wrong - it was hard stuff to play! There was not an easy song on that album. I thought they were doing quite well for people who obviously had other talents and things occupying their time. 

Slowly Dave stood up and steadied himself on the bar. Just how many shots of what had he drank and had the bartender clean up before I could see? Was he off to pick a fight or to take a piss? Dave grabbed his beer can and slowly circled around the back of the crowd, getting to the far wall and pausing. I had to tear my attention away from Chris to make sure Dave was ok. He seemed to watch intently, eyes focused on the band. He tipped forward and hugged the wall as he moved closer to the stage. The bodies were thin along the wall and he got up front easily. The grey and red beanie was easy to spot in the crowd.

Dave planted himself in front of the bass player and crossed his arms. He was in full on asshole mode, feet planted, knees bent, and arms crossed. He stared openly as the kid kept up with my parts, flinging his hair and bouncing in an odd triangle between his mic, the drum riser, and Dave.

 

@@@@@@@@@  


David hurried to my side. I could feel him - my vision was focused on the hard body on stage. There was a bit of fray to the denim where his bass rubbed against his thigh. The cotton fibers caught the light from the par cans. He needed some leathers, like David had, with the lace up crotch. Smooth black leather stretched over those long legs, lacings I could grab with my teeth and pull...

The bastard turned and worked with the drummer, legs spread and asscheeks on display for me. Fucking hell, if I was gay I’d lick up one leg and down the other before taking the prize at the center. Chris threw his hair back again, I could grab on to it and pull, you'd like that, wouldn’t you you dirty boy. 

 

@@@@@@@@@@@

  
Chris upped his act when I got to the front of the crowd. He sneered and took out whatever reserve of anger he could find on his strings. He was melting under the lights, dark patches of sweat under each armpit and at the center of his chest. Behind his guitar his waistband was probably soaked as well. Between songs he chugged water and fanned the back of his neck, eying me before deciding to set his guitar down a moment. Hands grabbed at the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head, tossing it towards his amp.

Pale skin shone under the lamps, probably as burn prone as Dave was. Hair covered his chest and ran down his stomach, darker than his head hair and probably the same shade as... I swallowed as the line of fur disappeared behind his guitar. It put his biceps on display, nice and rounded from hours spent bent over a car engine.

He fluffled his hair with his fingers, pulling at the stray curl at the front that didn’t want to join the rest. “Ok, umm, most of you have seen our special guests for the night.”

I rolled my eyes but whistled. The crowd had been pretty cool about us being in their midst. 

“This next one they’ve been dedicating to Nick Menza, so we’re gonna do the same.” Chris closed his eyes for a moment and paused, nodding as the lead guitarist started in heavy on the tube distortion. He nodded his head as he counted in, managing to catch my gaze, the character dropping from his eyes for a second. Had he known Nick too? The hurt looked real.

He spit some of my own words back at me, using the simple riff to stare at me as he sang. Interesting.

 

@@@@@@@@@@

“Who’s.” It echoed through the club much louder than the rest of the lyrics. Chris had a fucking set of lungs on him, maybe the car idea was out. Unless I could gag him. Ribs pushed against his shirt as he sucked in breaths, peaked nipples casting small shadows.

“It’s the kiss of death!” He leaned sideways into the microphone, just as David did. Fuck that was sexy. I liked the way his jaw moved.

Chris stepped center stage as he started 'Dawn Patrol'. Some girls shrieked and clapped. I wasn’t the only one who appreciated him. It flared my jealousy with a hot stab. He rocked with his bass line, the lyrics never coming. Didn’t care. If he moved like that in bed...

 

@@@@@@@@@@@

  
Chris kneeled down at the side of the stage as the bass player took over for 'Dawn Patrol'. My song and I could care less. He waived me closer and I managed to push my way through the crowd that flowed for the bass players solo.

He waived me closer, the guitar neck jutting up past his ear. “Stay after the gig a bit?” His hand fell on my shoulder, just brushing my hair. I’d been letting it grow a bit again and had stopped brushing it out as much.

I nodded and he gripped my shoulder, fingers firm on my knotted muscle. “Wouldn’t miss it!” I had to shout back. So 'Dawn Patrol' had no lyrics tonight. They stunk anyway, Dave’s bitter addition to something I’d written.

Chris smiled and quickly stood back up, getting a bottled water from the drum riser. 'Dawn Patrol' was so short, there wasn’t any time to do much else before the music stopped and Chris had to be at the microphone again. 

“Alright, last song, I think everyone knows it.” Chris scanned the crowd. “This is a little song called 'Rust. In. Peace'.”

He backed off the microphone as the drummer started the song, bass player yelling something at Dave before he dove in. The syncopation wasn’t easy or natural but Chris nailed it. They cut 'Polaris' off, nailing the sudden ending. 

“Thank you,” he growled into the microphone as he looked at the bar. “Time for one more?” He pinked a few strings and retuned quickly. “Two more?” He shook his head, the bartender keeping him to time limits. “Alll-right,” he drawled like Dave used to. “Any requests?” He got out the riff from 'Fatal Illusion' before cutting himself off. It sounded great, big and crunchy, but not something a tribute band would play as a last song.

“Anyway...” He leaned back and nodded at his bandmates before dropping into the 'Symphony of Destruction' riff. Man, that was always fun to play with it’s underlying swing. I was bopping along with the crowd, so used to the Aguante Megadeth sing along I could hear it in my head. 

 

@@@@@@@@@@  


The bitch had the nerve to tell me to stay after the show. The singer was prattling on about something, Chris screaming down at me between songs. How dare he tell me what to do, didn’t he know who I was? If my arms weren’t crossed over my chest already they would be. Fucking punk. You bet your ass I was gonna stay now, he needed some sense beat into him. He wasn’t too old for a good spanking, right across my lap with his ass in the air.

They butchered 'Symphony', Chris posing with his bass more than playing, rumbling up and down the frets. They cut it short and the house lights came on, barstaff eager for last call. My watch said barely midnight, fucking early for a bar to be wrapping it up. So you couldn’t smoke, they had shit for drinks, and out by midnight? What the fuck, no wonder kids these days were assholes.

Chris dropped his bass in a travel case and jumped off the stage beside me. “Drink.” He marched through the crowd to his spot at the end of the bar. Little did he know I was smarter than him, and had already ordered several for when they had finished. Last call was for schmucks. Two Quaaludes were put in front of him, his beer chips worthless. He would be drinking what I put down his throat, not some shitty draft beer. Bad enough he had to play a shithole like this, at least he could get drunk for it.

 

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@  


  
They dispersed quickly, drummer heading out for another smoke and bassist having some sort of words with Dave before walking off. Chris took off his guitar and stood at the stage’s edge, shaking hands and accepting thanks. When the crowd moved on for last call he smiled at me.

“What did ya think?” He curled up his lead as we talked, breaking down your own gear after was that bit of harsh reality creeping in again. 

“That was awesome, and you’ve got the Mustaine part nailed, man. Totally killer.” It hadn’t been a perfect show by any means, but they were trying.

Chris pushed his hair behind his ears. “Thanks,” he said shyly. “Glad you guys could see us play.”

“Glad you asked me to come, it’s been great.” We stared at each other, that odd minute of trying to feel out which way the rest of the night would go. 

“You gonna hang around?” Chris spoke first. “I gotta break down.”

I scanned around for Dave, finding him back at what was becoming his end of the bar, wrapped up in the bass player and more alcohol. “Yeah, I guess.” Chris followed my line of sight and sighed.

“He always does this.” He grabbed for a gig bag and stuck his guitar in it, a bunch of picks falling out of an unzippered compartment. “Gotta get his drink on.”

Dave wasn’t the best one to be helping him in that department. “Hey, want me to pack up his stuff? I know a little bit about bass set up.” 

Chris looked grateful, as the responsible one he probably ended up packing alone most nights. “That’d be great.” His smile was of pure relief and he tossed me a cold water out of his little cooler. “You sure, you know, your foot...”

The boot came off months ago and the doctor gave me the all clear. I could still feel a small ache when the weather changed. “Yeah, all healed up. Tough for an old guy, you know.”

“I heard all about your Viking blood.” It was the first non-music thing he’d really let slip that showed just how much attention he’d been paying to get his act right.

I flipped off the bass head and started looking at the setup, cables and pedals and rack equipment. How he got a tone anywhere near Megadeth with a setup sparse enough to rival Frank Bello was beyond me. Fred would have to check it out.

Chris already had a guitar on his back and a head in his arms. “Car’s this way,” and off he went.

 

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

“God, these are disgusting,” Chris polished off another Quaalude and sipped on his Fireball shot.

“Want another?” I asked with an elbow on the bar. He sat between me and the wall, our own little drinking club. “I’d have you try a caipriniha, but they’re nasty with vodka.” 

“Fuck yeah, are they good?” His eyes were just starting to get glassy, a few more and he’d be good and drunk.

“This used to be red.” I stroked the stubble on my chin. 

“Remind me, I gotta try it.” The bartender pushed the glass at him, unhappy that I’d paid in advance and she was still making drinks. There were two tequilas left open and I called for them, finishing off our tab. They were the quickest drinks of the night and I claimed them for myself, Chris was starting to look a little green in the gills. Poor boy, all talk, no liquor tolerance.

David appeared out of no where, along with the singer. They looked to be fast friends, David always made easy friends. “We’re packed up, ready to go?” The signer was looking Chris up and down, clearly unhappy I’d gotten him plastered. David just pinched a corner of his mouth, used to me going off the rails sometimes.

“Not yet, not yet!” Chris held up his milkshake looking drink, struggling to steer the straw into his mouth. His tongue came out and grabbed it before sucking. His throat worked as he swallowed the alcohol. 

I picked up one of my tequila shots. “Lemme finish these first.” I ran my tongue along the rim again, licking off the salt while eyeballing Chris. He seemed fascinated by my tongue, trying to focus on it and the small crystals of salt. I took the shot, letting it burn down my throat and into my sinuses. No neti pot needed tonight, that was for sure.

Junior’s hand landed on the back of my chair. He wasn’t happy. Fuck him, what was he gonna do, leave me here? Sucked being responsible and predictable.

“You gonna be ok with him?” David was still trying to plan everything, ever the den mother. 

“Yeah, yeah,” said the singer. “Gotten pretty good at cleaning up.” He sounded a lot like Ellefson, only with red hair. Shit, red hair? Ellefson liked red heads. Sneakily I tried to watch the two of them with all of my attention still on Chris. Chris had his lips pursed around the straw and was sucking up the last of his drink, pushing the straw through the ice cubes. 

Shit, why was I watching Junior again?

“I think I’m empty,” Chris said as he set his drink down. It left me and my one last tequila holding up the whole crew.

I chuckled. “One for the road?” I held out the tiny glass without anyone to toast against. Down it went, not messing with the salt this time. 

“Alright, let’s get it moving.” Junior and the singer talked to each other some more, leaving me and Chris drunkenly stuck to our barstools. He waivered on his stool, clearly far drunker than I was. Leaning forward into his space I tipped my head up slightly as he mostly fell into me, lips smashing against mine in a drunken, sloppy mess.

“Hey, hey, hey...” Out came the behavior police, breaking us apart. “Not in public, man.” Hyeah, says the guy with the giant hickey on his throat.

“Mmmm, one more,” I slurred. Alcohol evaporated from Chris’ mouth, the Irish Cream leaving a sticky-sweet film on his lips. I pulled him into me this time, sneaking my tongue between his lips and licking at his tongue.

“Dave, c’mon, man.” Chris fell away, probably pulled back by his bitch of a singer. I got the odd impression that we had a small crowd.

I stood up and carefully pushed the bar stool in. I still wasn’t overly drunk, maybe a little tipsy. Chris, on the other hand... He was held up by Whatshisname and balanced against his hip. “Dave, Dave, hey, where you going?”

“Back to the hotel. I don’t think Junior’s in the mood to hit up another bar.”

“Awww, man, that sucks.” His head lolled for a moment. “Chris, Chris man, we gotta go hit the Tiki before they close.”

The singer shuffled Chris in his arms, getting a good hold on him. “I don’t think you need any more drinks right now.”

Chris tried to pull away. “You fucking suck.”

“I know I do,” he answered with a long suffering tone. “Now let’s get in the car.”

“You gonna get in the car or do I have to carry you too?” At least David had a slight smile.

My arm still went around his shoulders. “Can’t a guy get some help in his time of need?” I got one of his trademark chuckles, deep and lively. “Hope you know you’re driving.”

“Planned on it.”

 

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

David and his singer friend spent a few minute talking after us drunks were piled and belted into respective cars. David’s rental was miles above their shitty looking Toyota full of equipment. I was about to roll down the window and scream that they should get a van, my excellent career advice for the night. The wind was right and blew bits of conversation towards me. Katella. Hilton. Garage. Shower. Tomorrow. Cool. Yep.

David’s door opened and he slid into the driver’s seat, finally turning the car and the heat on. He made sure I was still buckled in before driving away, Chris’ headlight bright in the mirror.

“You got a date for tomorrow?” The town was darker this late at night, most of the shops closed up and not as interesting to look at.

“Nope.”

In the comfort of the car the last two shots of tequila were really starting to hit me. Maybe the macho posturing hadn’t been such a great idea.

“You gonna be sick?” David took his eyes off the road long enough to look over and watch me turn green.

“I’m fine,” I choked out and cracked the window. The fresh air felt good. 

 

@@@@@@@@@@@@

  
Once he got over the urge to vomit up the last two shots, Dave went into twenty questions mode. It was like when my kids were three years old. First couple of questions were fine, after that it just got annoying.

“What’s the singer’s name?”

I gripped the wheel. It would be a long drive back to Anaheim. “Chris.”

“That’s the bassist, what’s the singer’s name?”

“Chris,” I repeated. “We’ve two Dave’s, they’ve two Chris’.”

It took Dave a while to wrap his drunken mind around it. “Wow, bet that sucks.”

I could have laughed out loud, all the years I was relegated to being called Junior, RoboFuck, Jubee, while Dave was... Dave. “Sure someone’s got a nickname.”

“Better be your guy. Chris doesn’t have the personality for it.”

My eyebrow went up, lost in the darkness. “But yours has the looks for it.” The more than passing similarity hadn’t gone unnoticed, probably why he was able to get so close at NAMM to begin with.

Dave grunted and shifted in his seat. “He is good looking.”

It seemed to stop the flow of questions for a while. I was happy to drive in silence. Hopefully the rocking of the car would help Dave fall asleep. He’d be easier to carry upstairs unconscious than try to convince a drunk Dave that it was time for bed and to go quietly.

I flipped the indicator as I slowed down to exit the freeway, the hotel wasn’t far at all and I was looking for some wind down time after the long day.

“Hey Junior, did you know there’s a car following us?”

“Oh really?” I stuck to the left lane, ready to drive back to where we started. Sitting at the red light with the blinker on let Dave wake up and stare in the side mirror.

“They’ve been behind us a long time now.” He was focused on the small mirror, squinting as he tried to see.

“Huh.” The light turned and I moved on to a mostly empty street. There were still a few walkers out around, mostly from NAMM by the looks of them. The Disney crowd was long gone.

The hotel had secured parking, and after a small ‘tip’ to the attendant Chris’ car slid into the garage right after ours. Thank goodness the night had been left to the two planners of the groups, and not the two drunks.

 

@@@@@@@@@

We were being fucking followed. It’s like that shit Nick was always on about, g-men in their non-descript cars trailing you for miles before they got you where they wanted you and knocked you off. Junior didn’t seem the least bit worried. They turned when he turned, following us all the way back to the hotel.

“Fuck, Junior, they’re after us.” My hand clutched at the armrest. I was too important for cement shoes, or to be found in a corner of the parking garage in the morning.

“Ssssh!” Junior paid the parking attendant and the car followed, parking next to our car. Shit this was it, this was how it ended. “Get out, we’re here.”

He shut the car off and opened his door. I slammed the lock shut again and prepared to defend myself. Those fuckers weren’t getting me without a fight.

My reflection floated in the window next to my head. They’d cloned me. They were gonna kill me and replace me and no one would ever know. Shit, Junior was in on it, maybe they’d already gotten him. “Junior!”

“Is he gonna get out of the car?” My clone was talking to Junior. Fuck, fuck, what was I gonna do? I’d have to run, I was outnumbered.

“Junior!” I pulled on the car handle and it wouldn’t open. They had me trapped. I’d never see Pam or Kiko again.

The lock popped and David swung the door open. “Stop being paranoid and get out. No one’s gonna hurt you.”

“They cloned me! They’re gonna kill me!” I curled in the passenger seat, not enough room between the cars to make a break for it.

David blinked and got down on my level. “What? Chris? Yeah, I noticed that too.”

“You gotta get us out of here man!” I made a grab for the door and tried to pull it shut.

Junior wedged his body between the door and the car frame. “Dave, stop it! You’re drunk, get out of the car and go to bed.”

I curled in on myself in a ball, protecting vital organs. Hands grabbed at me, pulling me out of the car. David was stronger than he looked. 

“Look, Chris is getting his Chris out of the car too. Both of you are drunk off your asses and are going to bed.”

“Noo, nooo,” I clawed at him. “That’s when the Greys get you.”

David nodded, kicking the door shut behind us. “And they’ll bring you back in the morning. They always do.”

“What?” They’d done it before, and he was just gonna sacrifice me to them again? It’s why I had all my fillings taken out. Nick said they had nanobots in the amalgam of the old fillings.

“No, you just had way too much tequila. Remember ordering all those shots? Plus a dozen beers and god only knows what else.”

The night drifted back through the haze. Yeah, salted rims. It was pretty hot out here in the parking garage and I tried to take my shirt off. The night air would feel good.

Hands held down mine and I couldn’t quite get my shirt up over my head. Damn shirt was broken. “Keep your clothes on Dave. Wait until we get to the room, ok?”

“You’re mean,” I said, relaxing into his arms. “Wanna go to bed.”

 

@@@@@@@@@@@@

Chris wasn’t having an easier time, his bassist just as wasted as Dave but less paranoid apparently. He was just dead weight. Chris got an arm around him and hauled him to his dragging feet. At least their gear would be secure for the night. It had been his biggest concern out of everything, keeping the equipment safe so they could go on to the next gig later in the week. Chris would sober up and forget. As long as he was put someplace somewhat horizontal he would be good until morning.

With Chris passed out and Dave sleeping Chris and I could hang out. That was the plan anyway.

“Dave, where’s your room key?” I half hauled him through the garage and into the hotel, trying to steer him to the elevators. Chris was keeping up behind us, youth working in his favor. “What room are you in?”

He belched and giggled before shrugging his shoulders. “Dunno,” was his answer. Even if I did find the room key in his wallet they didn’t have numbers on them anymore. Looks like we were headed to my room. I had two queen beds, it wasn’t ideal, but at least the town drunks could sleep it off.

We propped our charges against the wall of the elevator and I hit the button for seven. The room was a long walk down the end of the hall; normally I didn’t mind but I didn’t plan on hauling 160 pounds of Dave along with me.

It was a relief when I got the door open, trying to hold it open with my foot for Chris. Dave balanced for a minute. Chris was in worse shape than Dave but at least he wasn’t hallucinating.

“Aaah, yessss...” Dave lurched forward under his own power and landed on the closest bed. That solved that. Chris managed to swing Chris onto the other side of Dave’s bed, letting him drop to the mattress with a _pfwoopf_. It was close enough.

Chris rolled his shoulder and stretched his back. It sucked being responsible. Our job was done now, they could sleep in their clothes and shoes, it would serve them right. With a smile I locked the door and threw the bolt.

He was taken by the night skyline, or what passed for a skyline in the flatness of California. London, New York, Beijing, those were skylines. At least I knew how spoiled I was.

“This is beautiful, look at all the lights.”

I doubled back and flipped off the lights, the reflections in the floor to ceiling windows disappearing. 

“Oh wow.” He turned over his shoulder. “Dave, come see this.”

The room didn’t even overlook Disney and he was still enthralled with the streetlights and shopping centers. This close to the glass I could watch as his eyes traced the roads. 

“Wish more stars were out. That would make it perfect.” 

Still the moon was full, even if some whispy clouds did pass over it for a short time. OC almost looked beautiful until you realized that swatch of lights was a trailer park and that other one over there was a Target. “You want a coffee?” We’d planned to hang out and instead become baby sitters of our friends, not the night either of us had hoped for. I dug in the minifridge, my additions of canned cold Starbucks drinks paying off. Chris nodded, eyes still on the city. “Mocha or regular?”

“Regular’s good.” A man after my own taste. The mocha was good too, the extra chocolate never hurt. I gave him my regular and took the mocha. “Cheers.” We clinked glasses as the tops were screwed off and tossed onto the desk.

“So you guys live around here?” Small talk filled time as we got to know each other. Obviously they lived around here, their gear was packed in a Toyota, not a trailer.

“Yeah, over in Studio City. Me and Chris split an apartment until we can get some more gigs or a recording contract.” He looked at my reflection in the window. “You know how it is.”

Indeed I did, putting in more than my fair share of years until Dave’s grand ideas finally took off. “At least you’ve got a job, we wound up in my van more times than not.”

“The dealership sucks, I hate it. I’d quit but then we’d be homeless.”

“Yep!” I chuckled. “Homeless with a heroin habit. Hopefully you avoided that one.” 

The question weighed heavy in the air. “Yeah, I mean I smoke a bit of pot every now and again, and Chris drinks too much, but Maxwell House is my vice. I can’t afford heroin honestly and wouldn’t want it anyway.”

“Hope Starbucks is a good substitute.” A small knot of tension relaxed inside of me. Chris was exactly as level headed off stage as he was at the bar. The Mustaine bit was all an act, part of his performance for the audience.

“This is great, thank you. And the view is great. Whole night’s been great.” He tucked his hair behind his ear again, obviously a nervous habit. “I can’t thank you enough.”

“You already have.” He shifted the bottle to his left hand, reaching down to twine our fingers together. It was sweet but I wanted more. I think he did too.

I shook off his hand and instead wrapped my arm around his waist, fingers catching in the belt loops. My hip bumped against his, the closest we’d been since the set break at the bar. He felt right, the extra two inches or so just tall enough but not too tall, not bulky like Broderick had been but not skinny like the time I slept with Whitfield Crane. Chris was just right.

He leaned his head against mine and we watched the cars drive around town as we drank our coffees.

 

@@@@@@@@@@@  


I realized I was on a bed. That was the first thing I thought. Second thing was that I must have had fuckton to drink because I woke up and I didn’t feel like shit, so I was probably still drunk. My toes and fingers reported back as numb when I stretched them, so I took that as a yes. The lights were out and the room was quiet, all good signs. Jails were never quiet, even in solitary it was a noisy place, and the pillow under my face felt too soft for a hospital.

It had the stink of a hotel room. I’d gotten to a hotel room somehow. Last thing I remembered was going to that bar in Orange with Junior. So it was Junior that got me here. God bless him. Such a great dude. I closed by heavy eyes and let the alcohol wash over me again, pulling me back to sleep.

 

@@@@@@@@@@@@@

  
“You wanna watch a movie or something?” Watching the traffic was all well and good, but after a while it did get boring.

Chris couldn’t take his eyes off the scenery. He shrugged “I guess,” he said before looking over to the occupied bed. “What about them?”

It was my turn to shrug. “They’ll sleep through it. Wake up tomorrow and be total hungover assholes again.”

He watched the sleeping men, motionless on the bed as the alcohol kept them down. “What’s on?”

I shrugged again. “Infomercial, rerun of SVU. I’m just trying to get you on the bed without appearing crude.”

“What would you do if I said I wanted to fuck you?” Chris turned us both so we were facing each other now, my arm still around his waist.

Licking my lips, I chuckled softly. “I’d call you crude.”

“And what if I wanted you to fuck me?” 

I had to bite back a moan as my stomach flopped. His eyes were so clear in the dim light, heated but playful. Chris grabbed at the lock of curls that dropped down his forehead, twisting it around a finger before pushing it out of the way again.

“Then you might not make it to the bed.”

His eyes flared with want as those plush lips parted slightly. It was all the invitation I needed to reintroduce our tongues. Last time had been hasty, thrown up against the brick of the building, sucking and licking and biting without any finesse. 

And now was more of the same, the taste of coffee on his tongue throwing any thoughts of taking it slow out the tall windows. I gripped his waist and pulled him close while his hands dove into my hair and grabbed at my scalp. 

It felt great, but I’d knew it would be over much too soon at this rate. I had to push him away and put some space between us while I caught my breath. His shoulders heaved like he’d just run a marathon, wetness on his lip glinting in the moonlight. I could have sworn he was Dave before he pounced, eyes fever bright with the focus of a predator, tension running through every long muscle in his body.

I pulled my shirt over my head and watched as he did the same. Muscles flexed under that pale skin, blue veins streaking out where they ran close to the surface. Chris bared his chest and I ran my hand through the thick thatch of fur, the coarse strands parting along my fingers. I pinched a nipple between my fingers and watched as his pulse throbbed at the base of his throat.

“Bed, now,” Chris’ voice was hoarse, “Or you might not make it there.”

His hands gently pushed me towards the bed and I used the distance to shed my jeans, the denim dropping to the floor. I decided to sit against the headboard; it was a good way to cool both of us off slightly. Chris’ eyes were on me the whole time, finally trailing up my legs and resting on the hem of my underwear.

Chris took off his own jeans, nude beneath his pants. His cock sprung free, proudly rising from the darker shading of hair. He was glorious half silhouetted by the starlight, all lines and harsh angles. I couldn’t tear my eyes away as he approached the bed and lowered himself to sit beside me, propping the pillow at the small of his back. He leaned in for another kiss that I freely gave. He was good with his tongue and I wondered if him and Chris were....

“Take them off,” he whispered in my ear. “I wanna see you.” He picked at the elastic waist and let it snap against my skin. The tiny bikini barely covered anything, but I was still overdressed. I twisted on my hip, sliding the cotton down and off my legs, tossing it to the floor with the rest of our clothes.

Eyes were on me again, drinking me in. I hadn’t planned on this, hadn’t manscapped, the wild growth much longer than it should have been.

“Fuck,” Chris cursed. Hands pulled me back up the bed, gathering me in his arms and pulling me to his lips. God, he was a great kisser, stealing my breath and making me take his. I couldn’t tell who was panting and moaning but it was fucking hot. 

He bit lightly and then soothed with his tongue. Aggressive but mindful, such a hot combination. “Mmmmmm,” I needed to slow down. His mouth was addictive and talented and as good as he was I wanted to enjoy it. “Slow...” His tongue was back in my mouth again, circling around mine as he dug for tonsils. I had to push on him a bit, push myself off him for a breath. Both of us were panting, skin rubbing and sticking together. “Slow down,” I leaned back in and took another sample of his lips. “Got all night.”

“So good,” he breathed before tonguing me. Wetness slid down my throat, sucking on the edge of my collarbone and leaving another mark. He had twisted on the bed so that his hips were against my leg, his hardness rubbing between my leg and the sheet.

Lips moved across my chest and landed on a nipple, tongue tracing around as it hardened before sharp teeth latched on and tugged. I thrust my hips up against him, heaviness already churning in my balls as he suckled. “Chris...” Hands grabbed at my hip bones and thumbs smoothed in small circles. “Chris, shit,” I tried to thrust against him as he tortured me, but his grip was firm and held me down. All I could do was pet his hair.

The teasing stopped and he looked up at me. Brown eyes, the same shape as Dave’s but lineless and innocent stared up at me. Chris’ pleasure was pure, not tainted by half the things Dave had experienced. The corners of his mouth turned up in a Cheshire smile. I caught him and hauled him up before he could sink lower. Patience was a virtue they were evidently both short on.

Unable to set him down I kissed him again, hands groping and grabbing as I tried to get him to sit next to me again. I got my shoulder under him and pushed him into the headboard, earning a growl for my efforts. 

With Chris against the headboard I was finally able to wrap my fingers around his cock. He released a shallow breath and pushed himself into my hand. “Feels good,” he said as he raised his arms and folded them behind his head. His biceps bulged as his smell filled the room. He hadn’t showered from the show and the musk was almost overpowering.

I wanted to swallow him whole. It wouldn’t take much to slide lower and let my lips trail down his shaft, to take his balls in my fingers and roll them around. Instead I sat next to him again, as I’d originally wanted. 

He got the message and reached over, stroking me just as I was stroking him. There was a noise and movement from the other bed and we both froze, looking over at Dave and Chris.

 

@@@@@@@@@@@  


Fuck I was horny. I woke up and pressed my woodrow into the soft bed, letting my weight settle on the swelling flesh. The room was still dark and reeked of sex. The coating of fuzz on my teeth and brewery odor let me know I’d drank too much again. At least I wasn’t hung over or nothing. The lights were off and Junior was sleeping beside me. That was odd, but welcome. I pushed at his shoulder. If I had to be awake so did he.

He rolled over into me, eyes cracking open and very noticeably drunk. He smelled worse than I did. 

Whoa. 

Hehehe, there was a good chance he wouldn’t remember a thing, and I was gonna grab the opportunity.

“Junior,” I whispered and pushed at him again. I sounded slurred even to my own ears.

Sloppy lips landed on mine, less controlled than he usually was, probably from all he drinking. I pulled him close and rolled him under me, his legs tangling in the sheets. Shit he felt good, responding to my every touch.

His tongue forced itself into my mouth; fuck I missed how he used to do that. He grabbed at me and pulled me close, thrusting his hips into mine. Guess I wasn’t the only horny one tonight. That kid at the bar must have keyed him up more than I thought. 

@@@@@@@@@@@@

  
“They awake?” Chris whispered in my ear, his hands stilling but not leaving my dick. I strained to see in the dim light; Dave rolling his head against the bed and murmuring. Probably still stonking drunk and looking to piss. Drunk or not, if he tried to piss in my suitcase again he was getting kicked out of the room.

A hand pushed those famous curls back from his face before he pushed at the body beside him, Chris stirring slightly in his sleep and rolling over. Dave pushed at Chris again and he seemed to wake more, all I could see was pale skin and dirty brown hair. My Chris leaned forward to see around me, squeezing my cock when he realized what was happening.

Wet smacking sounds drifted up from the other bed, Dave and Chris struggling to find each other in the dark. I watched as Dave rolled them, putting himself on top, ghostly pale winter skin almost bright against the dark of the bed and walls. 

I snuck a peek over to Chris just to see if he was seeing the same thing. He was, watching intently. “SSssshhh,” he hissed and quietly climbed to the edge of the bed. I sat next to him, mere feet from the drunks. We took each other’s cock and stroked, the cheap thrill of watching Dave and Chris get it on adding another twisted element to the whole weird night.

They tore at each others clothes, much more aggressive than either one of us had been. Hips rose and fell, each thrusting and rubbing against each other as they struggled.

Dave broke away first and bit down on Chris’ shoulder, skating quickly down his torso and pulling at his pants, using brute force to force the denim over the swell of hips. The zipper was probably broken now, not the first time he’d ever ruined a pair of jeans. Giving up as the jeans refused to leave, Dave parted the denim and fished out Chris’ cock, stroking it quickly before lowering his lips.

 

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

David was an animal when he drank, the carefully cultivated air of propriety drifting away with each drink that he pounded. I missed drunken, primal David; my Junior, my running buddy. He bit and clawed at me, the Irish Cream curdled on his breath. It should have been a turn off and I should have kicked him to the bathroom to brush his teeth, but his tongue was on me, in me, lips sucking as teeth clacked against mine.

I missed the old, aggressive David. Hands grabbed at my clothes and pulled, trying to rip them from my body. Fuck, David, I missed you so much.

Blood pounded in my ears, the same echoing pounding in my cock as it throbbed and begged for release. Frotting against him was fucking great but it wasn’t how I wanted to blow my load. Tearing myself away I dragged my stubble down his tender flesh, stopping to take a chunk of out his shoulder. 

He rose into the bite, clawing hands pulling me nearer as bucking hips damn near threw me off him. The jeans had to go, so I slid down his body and tried to shuck off his pants, frustrated when I couldn’t get the damn things down. With a growl I dove at him, tasting him again after all this time. 

He was as hard as a teenager, hot, musk and sweat filling my nose as I brushed against his pubes. Hands locked in my hair and pushed me down, cock in my throat and cutting off my air. I moaned and his dick was forced even further down, my face smashed against his groin. My hair was pulled, back off for a breath before he rammed into me again, fucking my mouth. 

His balls bounced against my chin with the force of his thrusts. I moaned and gagged, gurgling and choking as he yanked on my hair and smashed me into his skin. 

I ended up humping the bed, rubbing myself along the seam of my jeans. I couldn’t touch myself until he gave me the ok. At least that was how it always had been. Hot tears leaked from the corner of my eyes. I could feel them trail down my cheeks and into a wrinkle. I struggled to suck with his fast pace, tightening my lips around his cock, so relieved at the loss of control.

David would take care of me, he always did.

 

@@@@@@@@@@@@@

  
Chris stopped working my cock, turning from the pornographic scene on the bed to look at me with a raised eyebrow.

Dave lowering himself to giving someone head. Millions wouldn’t believe it; showed what they knew. In the right mood he turned into the biggest submissive slut I’ve ever known, and it looked like tonight would be one of those nights. Chris fucked his mouth, Dave taking it without complaint, never shying away or backing off.

Oh how they’d love to see the Mighty Mustaine bent for someone else's pleasure. Instead of saying anything I simply leaned over and kissed Chris again, letting us fall back against the bed. Everyone seemed to forget that I, while quiet, was often more aggressive. I just liked my privacy.

Rolling on to Chris I let my weight settle on him. The gentle kisses never stopped, both of us feeding a growing need. He fit well underneath me, broad chest sinking into the plush mattress.

His hair fanned out around him and under him, curling in spots as the sweat dried and flat ironing wore out. It looked grey in the starlight, everything was grey, but I knew it was that vibrant red, somewhere between strawberry and copper.

Our cocks rubbed against each other, finally something a little bit more enjoyable than a hand job. My world became my mouth and my cock, and his body under mine. Hair tickled against my chest and stomach, moving with every jerky thrust of hips. Heat built between us, the cool night leaving the air conditioner on minimal. The windows would fog soon at this rate, and I had a plan. 

It was time to cool Chris down a bit again and leave him on edge, prolonging gratification, one of my favorite lessons to teach.

I managed to balance on my elbows and take some of my weight off him. An evil grin formed on his face before he lifted a hip, rolling us over so I was on my back. The grin stayed as he looked down at me, hair falling over both of us in a curtain. 

It was unexpected, and erotic as hell. It wasn’t often I had someone to play with anymore, the long years of marriage and kids sucking away most of my wife’s energies. “What now?” I asked as I jut my jaw out. He was positioned just right so I couldn’t thrust against him without bucking him off. 

Chris moved against me, never quite grinding but not enough to relieve any tension. The grin turned absolutely wicked, nose flaring much like Dave as he leered. One of his hands reached between us and circled around my nipple before tugging at the point. I had to bite my lip but a small groan escaped. Chris didn’t seem to be in any mood to speak, too busy pinching and rolling my nipple.

“Got an idea, if you really want to get kinky.”

 

@@@@@@@@

Hands pushed me away forcefully. In the dark it was hard to see, but I felt him move from under me, grabbing me again and flipping me over. Such power in that compact body, the muscles never as big as mine but I never doubted he could outlast me, in the end overtaking me. The covers felt good under my back. Yep, still a bit drunk I realized as I wormed my way into the David warmed fabric.

Hair trailed over my thighs, quickly tickling before those hot lips fell on my dick, molding around it and taking my length. Trying not to thrust, I fisted the duvet and arched my back. My legs wouldn’t spread, caught on the jeans I didn’t even know he opened and pushed over my hips. I kicked my legs trying to get them off, not getting very far without David’s help.

“Off,” I wheezed, hoping it would earn me a spank or two. Instead David let go of my dick, the cool room air sharp against the wetness as his weight lifted and tugged at the jeans. They slid easily down my legs with his help, puddling somewhere on the floor.

Finally I could get my legs open, letting my balls hang freely between my thighs. David could have worked for Hoover with the way he sucked my cock, all that not smoking must have been pretty good for his lungs. I wanted to thrust, wanted to fuck his mouth the way he’d fucked mine but I couldn’t. He’d leave me hard up and begging if I forced myself down his throat. 

Fingers skated over my balls, not giving them half the attention I wanted, reaching underneath. Probing fingers pushed their way against my hole, and I did choke him, the gagging noise freezing my hips. 

The warmth of his hand moved away from me and his lips left. I closed my eyes, waiting for my punishment. Instead he grabbed my hips and flipped me onto my stomach and pulled me to me knees. 

“Ass up, Princess.” That voice was gonna kill me one day. I rested my head on my folded arms, his bass roughened hands pushing my knees apart. The vulnerability was delicious, something I so seldom let myself experience. Fuck, only David could do this. Only he made me crave the release from constantly controlling everything. 

“Fuck, please,” the whine slipped out before I could stop it. My cock hung heavy and unattended. It was horrible. I loved it. The slap to my ass never came. I wanted it. The muscles in my rear twitched, waiting for the heavy palm to redden my skin. 

Instead, nothing. Fuck, it was so frustrating. 

My hand crept between my legs but I managed to stop it before it reached my dick. “Fucking do something,” I begged. No, I wasn’t above begging in the right situation, not if it got David’s hands on me again.

Cold wetness on my asshole broke another moan free. Fuck, I don’t care where he got it from, bless his boyscout soul. My hole puckered and pulsed, waiting for his cock, a finger, anything. 

 

@@@@@@@@@@@@  


Chris nodded above me, releasing my nipple to run a hand down my chest. It was a moment trying to get out from under him and not really wanting to. Needed stuff from my luggage and it wasn’t going to get itself. I dug in the blue nylon bag, looking for the smaller zip lock bag. My hand closed around the slippery plastic and pulled at the seal, dumping everything onto my clothes. The small bottle of lube fit in my palm, strip of three condoms tucked beneath the bottle.

I eyed the drunk couple on the other bed, feet tangled together in the duvet. I ripped the condom packets apart, letting one section fall back into my luggage, exchanging it for the small, single serve foil packets of lube that were perfect for clandestine meetings. 

Hating to interrupt, I nudged the other Chris gently. I held up the condom packet before dropping it into the bed at his side. The small packets of lube went with it. The good stuff was mine, bottle starting to warm in my grip.

My attention turned back to my Chris, who was lying on the bed jerking himself. It was a nice view, watching as he thrust into his own fist, eyes watching me as I walked back across the room.

“Ass up, Princess,” sounded from the other bed. I sniggered to myself, the thought of anyone else getting away with calling Dave Princess highly amusing. 

My Chris sat up from the bed and I pointed to the windows. The dark glass hadn’t fogged up as I had feared, the view into the city still crystal clear. Chris scrambled across the bed and stood at the tall windows, still enthralled by the sprawling development. 

It let me really look at his form, the way his ribs blended into his back and the dent in his butt where muscles met thigh. Standing behind him I put my hands on his shoulders and rubbed. He melted into the small affection, leaning back against me. I trailed my hands down his shoulders and arms, across his stomach before finally stroking his cock again. It throbbed in my hand, hard and straight, bouncing slightly each time I nuzzled into his neck or licked at his skin.

“Put your hands on the window.” I gave him a firm tug as I whispered into his ear. Behind me Dave was croaking as the springs bounced, low groans and hisses letting me know the lube had come in useful.

Chris did as I told him, bracing against the glass. Damn that was hot with his ass out in the air like that. The condom was on our bed and I reached back to grab it, dripping some of the lube onto myself before unrolling the latex. My fingers were covered in the cool lube, sliding nicely around my cock and coating the condom. 

His was looking over his shoulder, watching me instead of the city below. I stroked myself just for him, not at all surprised when he licked his lips. The tension was too much, and the noises from across the room too much. I got behind Chris again and reached into his cleft, spreading wetness in small circles. 

He rested one foot on the small lip at the bottom of the window. His head hung loosely, no longer looking back at what I was doing. I was proud of him, waiting to patiently. Taking pity on him, I stepped forward and lined myself up, pretty sure that he was used to taking a dick up his ass.

There was a slight pressure as muscles resisted, Chris breathing deep under me. Slowly I pushed forward, feeling him part around me. God he was tight. Time dragged as I let him loosen up, he was still under my hands and I rubbed his flank encouragingly. It wasn’t long before he started to move back into me, rocking between me and the window, elbows bending with each small movement.

I let him work up to a good speed at his pace when he squeezed around me I knew he was ready. “Ssshhh,” I held his hips still, my turn to set the pace. 

Hands pressed against the safety glass, fingers arching and digging. “Fuck me,” he breathed, trying to fight me for control. I quickened my pace, throwing in some shorter, shallower strokes among the deep thrusts that made him grunt. Hair spilled over his shoulders and down his back, the red barely visible in the starlight. Firm, flawless skin glowed. He flipped his mane whenever I hit a good spot, encouraging me to rub the head of my cock over the same spot again. 

I itched to grab onto that hair, to curl the strands around my fingers and bury my face in it. One hand disappeared from the glass, reaching between his legs to stroke himself in time to my thrusts. I could see the reflection of us in the glass, fucking in plain view of the sleeping city. 

“You like being fucked in public?” I had taken a few steps backward as we screwed, Chris throwing his ass back into me. Now I hauled him up straighter, exposing him to the neighborhood. The darkness hid us from any insomniac eyes, but the thrill of being seen was still there.

He nodded his head and continued to stroke himself, eyes half closed in pleasure. Chris tightened around me and I growled. I wasn’t going to be able to keep up the measured pace for much longer. He pushed back into me again, demanding more, faster. A groan ripped from his powerful lungs as I let him have it, not caring if I smashed him into the window or not. 

An echoing moan came from the other bed, someone enjoying their time. I could feel the orgasm coming, forcing my hips ever faster and my cock further up his ass, chasing oblivion. Chris was like a vise around me, torturing me as I fought to not have things end too quickly. 

I pulled on his upper chest again, arching his back as I pounded him. Payback for teasing me at setbreak and not finishing the deal. My nose went into those straightened curls, sex and sweat and hairspray smell bringing me straight back to my youth. 

“Fuck, Dave...” he moaned and tried to curl in on himself. No way I was letting that happen, pulling him back against me and holding him tight. Fingers slipped into his mouth, owning him from one end to the other. His ass clenched and his breath hitched, load hitting the window in silent pulses. It was too much and my own release hit me, panting into his neck as waves of pure pleasure washed over me. 

 

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

A finger finally circled my hole before carefully slipping past the muscle. Fuck yeah, that felt awesome and I wanted more. I’d been good, I think, the bastard torturing me out of some strange need to teach me things. I shifted my hips, trying to get that finger further inside, anything to stretch my hole wider.

“Please, c’mon...” It wasn’t begging, it was asking nicely. His hand slid up and down my rear, massaging my lower back. My hand twitched again, ready to jerk myself off should he take a second longer. 

His body heat returned, first against the back of my thighs then across my back. He reached around a gave my cock a few quick tugs, leaving me thrusting into his lubed hand. His cock dug at my butt and with each thrust he rubbed against me. Now we were getting somewhere.

The weight left, lubed hand disappearing and I whined, expecting to be tormented again. Instead I got a dick pressing against my hole, slowly parting me. Grunting I relaxed and waited as he forced himself inside, enjoying the burn as muscles stretched. Fuck, it was already awesome. When his hips rested against mine he paused, sucking in shallow breaths. Must have been a while for him, poor Junior. 

His teaching were of patience, mine were of a more hedonistic strain. Not waiting for him, I pushed onto him until our skin stuck together. He was gonna fuck me into the mattress or I was gonna fuck him at my pace, he wasn’t leaving me much choice. 

Hands clawed at my hips, nails digging into flesh. Pull me David, push me, fuck me so hard that I lose my voice. Fuck him and his patience, I pulled away and slammed back into him ignoring the pain in my neck and hand and ankle and everywhere else. 

“Fuck me, dammit.” Finally he starts moving. Slow and shallow, just barely meeting my movement, but at least he was going. I wasn’t made of porcelain. And fuck me if he didn’t feel as good as he used to. Age certainly hadn’t slowed him down any, must be that Viking blood.

Grunting and groaning I finally got my pleasure. It was as good as any hit of heroin had ever been. Amazing how David’s dick could get me just as high as the drugs ever did. 

“Fuck!” He hit me with a particularly jagged thrust and my brain cut off, instead only feeling his sweaty skin bouncing off mine and every single move of his cock in and out of my ass. My hand wrapped around my dick and I jerked it, the last of the lube letting me squeeze myself tighter and jerk faster. I didn’t want to act like a teenager but fuck, David was good, so good with the way he... Fuck, where did he learn that trick? 

I could hear skin slapping against skin, moans and groans and throaty breaths as I slid across the beddings. Good thing the bed was nailed down, he would have pushed us halfway across the room with the force of his thrusts. The first tendrils of orgasm started burning through me, swirling in my balls and sending frissons up my spine.

If he kept fucking me like that I’d be gone. My neck suffered as I used it to support my weight, hand flying over my dick as it ached and throbbed. I could feel the cum move as he kept pounding my ass, ready to spill my load with a few more thrusts. Fuck, David, don’t stop, don’t stop...

The release was total, and huge, cum flying everywhere as he fucked and I jerked, soaking the bed, my chest, and finally dribbling over my hand. And then it stopped. The noises in my head stopped, silenced into a heavenly quiet. I could feel David behind me, his final strokes jagged and stuttering before he came with a deep groan.

I vaguely felt him pull out, falling beside me as my knees gave out and I slid down into my own wet spot. Who cared at this point? I weakly reached out and put my arms around him, pulling him close and leaning against that thin chest, listening to the thrumming heartbeat as I drifted off.

 

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Chris proved to be a snuggler as well, something that was more endearing than I wanted to admit. He giggled about leaving a smear on the window for the cleaning lady before sneaking back into the bed, this time burying himself under the covers. The used condom found its way to the trash and I joined him, content when he wrapped his arms around me and leaned his head against my chest.

He was such a sweet kid, I almost felt bad for defiling him. It was clear that him and Chris had their own thing, even if it was a poor copy of me and Dave when we were younger. They’d be so much better off doing their own thing. Before sleep claimed me I made a mental note to talk to him about some originals, and definitely hitting up the Jackson booth tomorrow. Always good to make connections.

 

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Bright sunlight filled the room as I woke to a screaming bladder. Some fucking idiot left the blinds open all night and now the light was causing my hangover to flare like an icepick in my skull.

I stumbled quickly to the bathroom and closed the door, leaving the light off. My ass burned like hell and my dick was sticky, never a good way to wake up without remembering the night before.

Washing quickly in the sink I saw all of David’s toiletry items laid out. Had we gotten together again and I couldn’t remember? Fuck I would hate to have missed it. Quietly I opened the door and went back to the bed, surprised to see two others in the far bed, red and brown hair poking out from the covers. Someone also turned the AC way up, leaving it fucking freezing for January.

David slept on his stomach on my bed, leg propped out and arms burned underneath the pillow. Something looked off though, he looked like he lost some weight or something, maybe it was just the lighting. I crawled back on what was my side and wormed my way into his warmth. I had missed him so much.  



	2. Two

  


  
Coffee. Coffee. First thought of any morning. The sun was streaming in through the window and the blankets were warm around me but the promise of caffeine was too great. Chris slumbered on beside me, beautiful in his sleep. With only a small amount of regret I got out of bed and padded to the bathroom, digging out a bag of my Kenya Thrash blend and dumping some into the small coffee maker. A pot would do, right? Three cups for me, maybe a few for the Chrises. Dave would have one or two. The small pot only brewed five cups. Oh well.

Could make another pot later.

When the miracle liquid gold was ready I poured my first cup, breathing in the heavenly scent and adding sugar and creamer. Soon I would wake up and be personable. Until then I hoped everyone would stay asleep; they didn't need to see me like this.

Hunkered down in a hotel bathroom waiting for my fix. The drug of choice had changed but the impatiently waiting for a fix hadn't. I could already feel the headache coming.

Five hours without my caffeine and pain bloomed behind my eyes, like a sinus headache delivered by a semitruck.

The first sip was always a welcome comfort, no matter where I was in the world there was always coffee.

There was a quiet knock on the door.

Someone else was up and needed the facilities. I caught myself in the mirror, realizing I’d never put clothes on after last night.

Oops. I quickly grabbed a towel and wrapped it around my waist, opening the door a crack. I had to squint to make out who it was, the fuller hair and lineless skin about the only way I could tell it was Chris and not Dave.

He sniffed the air as the door opened, apparently woken up by the heavenly aroma. “Coffee?” he mumbled, whispering as the drunks slept off their indulgences.

“Oh yeah.” I opened the door further, letting him sneak in. He’d put on my underwear (having none of his own) but skipped the rest of his clothes. Better than me anyway. He grabbed a disposable cup from the sink and unwrapped it, filling it with coffee before taking a small sip.

He was either severely caffeine deprived or comfortable in his skin. There was no rush to cover up or attempt to hide. Even through the morning blurriness he was absolutely stunning, the small print on the fabric drawing my eye. It wasn’t the morning erection. Nope. We’ve all suffered that curse before.

“You, ahhh…?” Even as we both clutched our coffees I pointed at the toilet, ready to exit the room if he needed it.

An eye cracked open, cup paused against his lip and steam curling around his long lashes. Chris grumbled and took another sip, free hand reaching down to scratch himself. I chuckled slightly, with some coffee in him he must have realized how much he had to go. It usually took a few sips for even the most basic brain functions to kick in.

The view was good and I eyeballed him from behind my cup.

Chris set his coffee on the sink and made the few steps to the toilet. I turned away to give him some privacy but wasn’t willing to go back out into the main room. Bands were used to this kinda thing.

I could still see him in the mirror, sleep mussed hair trailing across his shoulders and down his back. My god, that ass… I leaned against the wall and enjoyed my drink and the easy morning after silence.

A shower sounded good. Perhaps Chris would join me? The more I thought about it the more I noticed my towel wasn’t doing its job anymore.

Chris washed up and looked at me in the mirror. He smirked as he dried his hands on a towel, reaching over and taking his coffee again, finishing off the cup. Never once did he turn around, leaving his long naked back on display. Shit, my towel wasn’t going to cover anything in a few minutes. Chris noticed it too, eyes raking over every inch of my freckles in the mirror before pouring himself another cup.

“Coffee’s good.” He picked up the black bag next to the pot, reading over the red lettering. “This is really good.”

“Thanks.” He seemed sincere about it, the years with Dave casting doubt over his words based solely on his physical appearance. I needed a refill but would have to squeeze in next to Chris to get to the coffeemaker. Mornings after were always such a weird time, but he seemed receptive enough so I pushed away from the wall and wedged my way to the coffee, flexing my legs as I walked with a partial erection. Chris watched me in the mirror, not budging as I reached for the black handle and poured the hot liquid. My threatening headache was gone.

I looked in the mirror again, Chris still silently watching me. I smiled and chuckled, breaking the tension. He smiled back and my chuckle turned into a laugh, Chris breaking out in a teeth baring grin. His arm landed on my shoulder and pulled me against him, the pair of us quite a sight in the mirror. He turned his head and kissed my temple, showering me with more affection in twelve hours than I'd had in years. I could get used to this, whatever this became.

"Shower?" I asked him, still caught in his hug. The smile never left his face. 

"Sure," he nodded, pounding back the rest of his coffee before turning to fiddle with the taps. Water quickly sprayed from the showerhead, steam soon to be filling the room.

Chris grabbed my towel and pulled, holding the cotton to his chest and leaving me nude again. He twisted it in his hands like he was gonna snap me, one of Dave's favorite locker room games. I pulled my thigh up to guard my junk, setting the coffee on the sink.

"Dude, chill." He spun the twist out, instead letting the limp end brush against my hip with a flick of his wrist. Even that was enough to make me flinch, and the careless fun that had once shone from his eyes just minutes ago was muted by some edge of sadness.

Chris pulled me against him again, hand between my shoulder blades and rubbing calmingly. "Why don't you go get a condom?"

 

********************

 

The blur of motion woke me up. I never slept well to begin with, and even though the figure was silent my eyes still flew open. From the quick view before my eyelids slammed shut in pain it looked like Junior skampering across the room. Naked, no less. Probably forgot something for the shower. I couldn't tell if that was water running or just the leftover ringing in my ears. Probably the shower. 

 

I craned my sore neck and looked for the clock on the table between the two beds. 8am. I could sleep for another two hours before I had to get up. Sounded like a great plan. I pulled the pillow under my head and sighed, drifting off again.

 

***************

 

Someone pushed at my shoulder. Instinctively, my arm flew up and blocked the possible threat, karate moves burned into my neurons as an automatic reflex. 

"Hey," the voice sounded annoyed. "Get up, it's time for breakfast."

I grumbled and pushed my face back into the pillow. I was actually sleeping and wanted it to last as long as I could make it. "Go away." Damn, my head hurt.

"Nah, you've gotta bribe him." That was Junior's voice. Shit, where had I passed out? There were some thundering footsteps and then the most heavenly smell I think I've ever smelled. "Dave, coffee and Excedrin. Wake up."

"Coffee?" I popped my head up and immediately regretted it as my brain spun, David's denim clad thighs dead in front of me. My neck hurt like a fucker. What the fuck did I do? My neck normally didn't hurt when I was hungover.

"Coffee," he explained again. "Excedrin. Wake up."

Slowly I sat up, sliding my legs over the side of the bed. Where were my underwear? Oh, there, on the floor. I kept the topsheet pooled across my lap. David handed me the warm cup and two white pills, his love for the WalMart generic Excedrin knowing no bounds. Caffeine without the liquid. Great.

There were two other people in the room, probably friends of David's. The one dude didn't look so good, balanced in the armchair with his head in his hand, his own cup of coffee off to the side. The other looked as annoyingly chipper as Junior, probably another morning person. Must be that singer from last night Junior had his eyes on. God only knows what he was doing here at, I glanced at the clock, 9:15 am.

The coffee was good and started to unfreeze the hangover fog. I still felt like I had the flu, but I knew it would go away. This much caffeine should kick the lethargy to the curb soon enough. I put my forehead against the heels of my palms and waited for the worst to pass. 

It wasn't much later before Junior put my clothes next to me on the bed. "Get dressed, we're going to breakfast." My eyes took a minute to focus, and a sip of coffee helped me keep my snarkish comments in my mind instead of out of my mouth.

Might as well get up. With the two morningbirds there was no way I would be able to fall asleep again, no matter how rude I was. David wouldn't put up with it. I could scare the other two off, but not David. Standing, I put my underwear on one leg at a time. If they got a view of my old man wrinkly dick maybe they wouldn't be in my room this fucking early ever again. Instead no one cared. Junior and Whathisname were looking out the window at the city and the other guy was still in his chair. Maybe he was dead.

Chris. That was his name. Both of their names. Parts of last night came back, little snippits. They were all jumbled though. Did I really call Chris sweet? Uugh. Disgusting.

Junior was pointing at something down the road, holding up his phone for the other Chris to look at. The shitty small room gave us no privacy or space to ourselves. At least with my clothes on I could pretend to be a decent human being. All I had to do was stay silent, one of Pam’s better recommendations. 

“Ready?” Junior looked over his shoulder as I zipped up my jeans. “Shoes and lets go.” Chris was left dragging Chris out of the chair, apparently in as much of a funk as I was. I remember the first few drinks, and... Oh. I ordered us one of Gar’s specials. I found my shoes but not my beanie. My hair was probably fucking wrecked, Junior was pushing me to get out of his room. No fixing it now.

When David said breakfast, I had assumed in the hotel. Food court. So I was unpleasantly surprised when his caffeine adrenalized ass steered me and Chris out the front doors and started hitting the pavement. The sun was blinding. I was more upset that it was the second time in two days that he’d gotten me.

“The fuck we going?” Between the hangover, neck pain, and flaming poker up my ass any amount on walking was too much. I just wanted to go back to sleep, I’m a fucking rock star, can’t I just get another few hours of sleep?

“Food. Coffee. Pancakes.” He smiled beneath his sunglasses and marched off like he owned the world.

Asshole.

And that is how I found myself sitting at Denny’s.

 

******************

 

Dave and Chris were being impossible. Between their usual brand of surliness, the hangovers weren’t helping anything. At least Chris was quiet, compliant with a bit of prodding from Chris. Dave was a little more grumpity, refined after the extra years of being an asshole. 

I wasn’t about to let them spoil my good mood. Dave could bitch and grumble all he wanted, the sun was out and it was warming up quickly. With the minimum three cups of coffee in me I was ready to venture out of the room and find some more coffee. Google said there was a Denny’s less than a block away; some food in the drunk’s bellies would help. Today would be a long day of signing things and meeting people. Dave was known to be anti-social on his best days so the snarking and sniping wouldn’t catch anyone off guard.

If he even went to his signing. Seymour Duncan had to know he was a risk being scheduled, prone to canceling or just not showing. With their artist repertoire there would be no shortage of talent manning the booth. Dave wouldn’t be missed. It wasn’t very professional, and certainly wasn’t the smartest of business choices, but he had enough clout to pull shit like that and get away mostly scott free.

We had to stop and wait for them to catch up several times during the short walk. It was hardly worth driving but they were making me rethink my idea. Less than a block. You would have thought it was a march to the gallows and not pancakes and bacon.

Dave picked a wooden bench to lean against, one of the small crop in front of the Clarion hotel. He didn’t sit, choosing to lean against the back of the benches.

“Problem?” I asked him, smiling. His Chris sat, hands over eyes that still hadn’t adjusted to the sunshine. We’d walked a less than a quarter block.

Dave glared and curled his lip, bloodshot eyes somehow less menacing when they were painfully dry.

I could see the intersection from here, the beige stucco blending in with every other building and hidden behind another hotel. Maybe a two minute walk? It wasn’t my problem that you got plastered and had your ass plowed. Hell, I gave you lube. You were gonna make it my problem, I could see the command forming on your lips. 

“Get the fucking car,” you barked, looking like your ass ached with every movement. 

I could only chuckle to myself, well aware of your situation even if you weren’t. Nodding to my Chris the decision was made. The car it was for the short walk. “Ok, Princess.” Your eyes suddenly met mine at the hazy edge of memory. I just smiled before I walked back to the hotel with Chris to get the car. I was over your shit before either Chris was ever born.

Leisurely we walked back to the parking garage. Taking my rental, I sat in the cool of the driver’s side as Chris sat in your former seat. It was chilly in the parking garage, the last of the morning not yet touched by the sunshine. 

“Did you really call him Princess?” Chris leaned into the center armrest with a wicked grin threatening to break through. I pinched my lips together, years of having to suppress laughter at your expense making me a pro. 

He was adorable, grin lighting up his eyes and small dimples forming in his cheeks. How different the two of you were at times like this. I leaned forward and kissed him, the easy intimacy still there outside of the hotel room. He met me with his tongue, leaning awkwardly across the center console. If he kept this up I would gladly skip breakfast.

Even if it was only three minutes we spent necking you were going to bitch. I sighed, breaking away from Chris and sitting properly in the driver’s seat. “Better get to breakfast.”

Chris wasn’t happy, but didn’t complain. His Chris was stuck on the side of the road as well, maybe not as recognizable as Dave, but left to fend for themselves none the less.

They were at the same bus stop we’d left them at, Chris looking completely hungover and Dave looking rather homeless. Without a word they climbed in the back for the thousand foot drive.

“There’s a Target up the road, stop there first.” Dave winced with every bump in the road. Plans changed, the local Target not difficult to find. I would have walked there if I had the choice but Dave wasn’t going to let that happen.

We split up as I parked the car. The Chris’ wanting to stop at another store in the strip while Dave dragged me through Target. Since I was there it was a good chance to pick up some things.

“Can I talk to you?” Dave was slowly making his way through the parking lot and I slowed my step to his pace.

“Yeah,” I tried to keep my voice down. Perhaps the parking lot of a Target wasn’t the best place to talk, but it was our first time alone since yesterday.

He kept his eyes on the store entry, slowly making progress. “Did I do anything stupid?”

I almost asked for a time period, the answer was certainly a yes for any restriction he would give me. He didn’t seem in the mood for the joke. “Define ‘stupid’.” I mean, sleeping with someone you just met might be considered stupid, as would getting shitfaced and having a mild paranoid break. Compared to years ago his behavior was actually quite tame.

Dave kicked at the asphalt, toe squeaking. “I mean...” he trailed off as a local shopper got a bit too close for his liking. We walked through the open doors and no one paid us any attention, just two guys getting some shopping done. “What happened?”

He kept shuffling through the Dollar Spot, turning left past the woman with four kids all loaded into a cart. Did he want the long version or the short version? “We saw a band, you got drunk, we went back to the hotel, and... you know.” I let him stew in his own assumptions. It would serve him right for playing Mr. Macho last night.

Oddly, he frowned, the lines on his face deepening. That hadn’t quite been the reaction I was expecting. He was too quiet, that pensive quiet that meant he was trying to draw connections between gaps in his memory. Lord only know what kind of insane theories he was coming up with.

Walking carefully, Dave headed straight for the health care aisles, looking down each aisle before finding what he was looking for. He shoved the cardboard box into my hand and made me carry it, quickly turning away from the shelves.

Preparation H. Hemorrhoid cream. There were some thing I didn’t need to know. 

While we were here... It was around here somewhere.

“Hang on,” I called to Dave, popping over to the next aisle. So now I had Dave’s hemorrhoid cream and a box of condoms. With Dave scowling behind me and shuffling I really hoped they had a self-checkout open.

Of course not.

The cashier didn’t even look up as we were on our way back to the car, quickly shooting a text to Chris, my Chris, sheesh they really did need a nickname for one of them. While I wasn’t starving, some food would be really good and it would help get Dave’s sour mood back under control. 

We waited in the car, I tossed Dave’s cream at him and stashed the condoms in the empty glove box. They couldn’t have gone too far on foot, unless they backtracked to Denny’s without us. Aside from the hangover, the other Chris should be experiencing a less painful morning after.

A few emails later and there was a tapping on the widow, Chris and Chris back from their jaunt. Probably a few ‘what happened’ questions from the hungover Chris, maybe some relationship issues. I just hope we didn’t really fuck anything up between them. Assuming, of course, that they were actually together. Who knew anymore these days.

They got in and we were off to Denny’s. We were led to a booth by a window and I slid in first, Chris grabbing the seat next to me. Dave took the window seat on the other side, Chris being used as a buffer between anyone who approached us for photos. Plus from the back Dave wasn’t as recognizable. 

I asked for the whole pot of coffee when the waitress worked her way over, and we were rewarded with more black gold. The four of us made a sizable dent in the pot before we’d even ordered. I could drink the whole thing myself, and it looked like my Chris was keeping up with me. 

The other Chris nudged Dave, palming him something that earned a hearty thanks and a rare smile. Dave dumped something into his coffee, hiding the empty bottle in his pocket. I wasn’t a saint in my youth, I knew the size and shape of a mini when I saw one. More alcohol was the last thing Dave needed, but who was I to tell him what to do. He wouldn’t listen anyway. Maybe some hair of the dog would straighten him out for the rest of the day, then he could go back to Nashville and out of my hair for a few weeks.

Piles of pancakes and bacon loaded the table. Dave’s steak looked good. I was hungrier than I thought and dug into my omelet, all that exercise burned off a lot of calories.

Chris’ hand landed on my thigh. We were squished into a small booth, it was bound to happen. His leg was touching mine. I ignored it until the fingers crept along the inner seam of my thigh; that was certainly not accidental. I kept eating as his hand crept higher under the table, watching carefully for any approaching waitresses or bus boys. 

I almost choked on a banana slice when his hand reached my crotch. He was eating his pancakes with his right hand, looking perfectly innocent. He missed my cock, but was rubbing against my balls. Shit, at fifty it was gonna be a little bit longer before I was ready to go again, no matter how sexy he was. I remembered being young and constantly horny, the poor kid was probably hard as a rock inside his jeans. I couldn’t see anything on a discreet glance. 

I parted my thighs and let his fingers rub.

 

***************

 

I sat across from David, sliding my sore ass across the bench and got pinned up against the wall for my troubles. With a little shove Chris gave me some arm room. The booth was harder than a rock, absolutely no give at all in the worn vinyl. The tube of cream sat unused in my pocket, soon I would have to escape to the restroom for some relief.

Ellefson ordered more caffeine. He should have just stayed a speed freak, would have cut down on his Starbucks bills. Wonder if he ever figured out that he was still chasing that high, even if it was with legal substances.

I needed some red meat, something solid in my stomach to settle it. Fried food, starch and fat and oil. David knew me well, Denny’s always had a steak on the menu. It wasn’t Fogo de Chao, but it was cow. Nothing better after a night of drinking. 

Chris nudged my thigh and passed me a small plastic bottle. Trying to be discreet I glanced at the label. Kahlua. Now we’re fucking talking. I knew I liked him for a reason. I cracked the cap and poured it into my coffee. Ellefson was watching me like a hawk, so I pocketed the empty bottle, some of his post-rehab snobbery still lingering after all these years.

Aaah, that was better. 

Across from me Ellefson suddenly went on alert mode. He was stealth about it, but his eyes scanned the dining room in quick sweeps. I didn’t want to turn around and see who walked in. He’d let me know if it needed my attention. 

Whatever he saw was interrupted by the waitress and the food. Why order fruit when you could have a fucking steak like a man? Ellefson was a fruit. On me like a cheap suit when he was drunk and now playing hard to get. He barely talked to me in Target, leaving me to piece together last night from hazy memories. My stomach rumbled as I grabbed my knife, not waiting for the others. Ellefson could say his prayer, God didn’t care if the food waited on the plate or got eaten warm, the sentiment was still there.

Chris bit into a strip of bacon next to me with a crispy crunch. That sounded good too, greasier and fattier than my steak. “Gimme one.” I asked, more courtesy than I would have had with anyone else. 

He stuck his fork into one of the pieces of steak I’d cut off, claiming it as his own. Only fair I guess. The strip of bacon landed on top of the steak.

The other side of the table had pancakes, eggs, and fruit. Fucking pansies. Wonder if Chris would give me half a breakfast sausage. With some maple syrup. 

Ellefson jerked in his seat, kicking my foot in the process. He’d have to get that looked at if he was gonna start having seizures. Maybe something bit him, the bug up his ass since this morning finally biting his colon. He kept on trying to eat, eyes back to scanning the restaurant while he pushed his food around.

The choking on a banana was the last straw. Fucker had to eat quietly or get his own fucking table. He knew how to chew and swallow. Did I fuck him last night? Would explain why he was bouncing like he had ants in his pants, and also why I had dried lube all over my dick this morning. He said we did it, but he wasn’t very specific. Normally he gossiped like a chick.

Chris dumped a sausage on my plate and pushed the boat of syrup over. I cut him out a larger section of steak as payment, pushing his hash browns out of the way. The kid might be worth keeping around.

David squirmed in his seat again and pushed his shoulders back against the booth. He hadn’t really eaten a thing since that banana bit. If he had to go to the bathroom he was adult enough to just get up and go. He kept blankly staring at the table when he wasn’t scanning the room. Fucking weirdo. Probably had his phone in his lap again, pretending he wasn’t addicted to the thing. 

He whispered into Chris’ ear, a familiar looking smirk growing on Chris’ face. Whatever the fuck they were gossiping about like old ladies it had better not involve me. Junior wasn’t gonna get me out to any bars tonight, even if it did get me in his pants.

Redhead Chris was quiet, much too quiet for someone ingesting that much caffeine. He’d kept up with David cup for cup, and David drank a lot of fucking coffee. For someone who sang my songs and played my parts he didn’t seem to interested in talking to me. Fine by me. He seemed too uptight, another fucking straight edge asshole trying to make the world less fun. He’s be off into a Stryper cover band next year. Fuck that shit.

With the steak and potatoes gone I was almost back to my normal self. My watch said eleven. Time to head back to the Convention Center and sell my sorry ass to Seymour Duncan in exchange for some free shit and endorsement checks. 

 

*******************

 

Fingers kneaded my balls, my dick desperately trying to come back to life again as Chris’ hand rubbed at me. Blood flowed into my cock only to flow back out in a frustrating loop. I was enjoying his ministrations and certainly wasn’t flaccid. Thirty years ago I would have banged him over the table, syrup and pancakes falling to the floor.

I set my fork down and reached my hand over. Oh yeah, he was hard. Too bad it wasn’t cold and I didn’t have a jacket I could put in his lap. Jerking him off at the table under a winter coat sounded like a fantastic idea. I knew the kinky side of him liked being used in public and I wondered how far the streak ran, if he would let me do something so brazenly. The dark safety of a hotel room was quite different from a Denny’s at eleven am. 

Eleven? Shit, we’d better get going. I had a signing at noon, and between fighting the crowds and finding the actual booth it would take an hour to walk across the street. Plus now Dave made me get the car out... Aargh. That man would drive me back to drinking one of these days. At least he was looking more alive now with the Excedrin in him and some food. He was on his own for the day, it wasn’t my turn to watch him. That dubious distinction went to his Chris, who seemed at best incapable of adult supervision if he wasn’t outright leading Dave down a dangerous road.

I leaned into Chris’ ear and whispered, “You wanna really play in public?” He didn’t answer me, but his fingers grabbed at me through my jeans. “Patience.” The fingers pinched gently, just a nip but it was enough to get my attention.

I jumped slightly, setting my napkin on the table to cover the flinch. “We’d better get going.” I struggled to push his hands out of my lap. They felt really good where they were but we really did have to get going. It wasn’t like me to be late.

Dave demanded we split the check and the waitress rolled her eyes at the trouble. Looks like it was me again. I slid her my Amex, knowing if she separated out everything we’d be there an extra half an hour. It was ok to spend cash on fancy houses, fast cars, and first class airline seats, apparently not so much on breakfasts. I knew Dave had issues, I just hated being reminded of them constantly.

 

****************

 

Junior dropped me and Chris off at the barricade, as close to the convention as he could get with a car. I fucking stunk of booze and sex, my filthy hair standing up in some spots and flattened to my head in others. I’ve no idea where my beanie went. It would certainly cover up a lot of problems.

I didn’t have my badge. Neither did Chris. Thanks fucking a lot Junior. Drop me in the middle of the crowd without any of the shit I needed. 

“You got a cigarette?” I quit in July of last year, but one wasn’t gonna hurt. Chris pulled a crushed looking pack out of his pocket and tossed me a book of matches obviously stolen from a bar. I hadn’t seen actual matches in years.

The rush of nicotine was calming. After so many months without it was like having a slight buzz. I should quit more often just to take it up again. We got dirty looks from the other attendees, California’s non-smoking, vegan, wheatgrass juice loving population instantly deeming us demon spawn for smoking. I sucked on the cigarette extra hard, especially for that bitch than wrinkled her nose at me.

“I don’t have my badge.” Chris just now realized we seemed to be floating adrift. He was still in his stage clothes from last night, a little bit worse for wear but looking better than I was.

“You’re with the oldest juvenile delinquent there is.” I tossed my cigarette butt on the ground and stomped on it. “Don’t fucking worry.”

Where was my phone? I felt my pockets and found it shoved in with my wallet. Won’t be hard to text Junior and have him deliver our badges. Chris might be fucking out of luck on his own, but I could get him in. Plus I really wanted to use that cream, never getting a chance to hit the bathroom at Denny’s. I don’t care if I had to use a public restroom, I wasn’t putting up with a busted ass all day.

I flipped open the stupid case only to see the battery was dead. A-fucking-agin. What was the point of a cell phone if it always had to be plugged in and charging.

“Battery’s dead. You got your phone?”

Chris flicked his cigarette butt out into the roadway. “Nope.” There was no room in his pockets for anything, I was surprised the cigarettes fit in there. “I can walk back to the hotel.”

I eyeballed the Hilton from here. He wouldn’t even have to hit the main road. I didn’t want to walk. Good thing Gar’s memory was still floating around. To the left and towards the back was a door that was never watched by anyone, not in the twenty five years I’d been selling myself. More fucking walking. Neither option was good.

My watch said eleven twenty. Shit. What room was David in? Fucking phone. Fucking battery. Fucking Junior. I could always ask the desk, he used the same uncreative fake name every time.

Fuck it.

“Nah, this way. I’ll get you in.”

We hiked to the left, through a few empty hallways and around to the back of the convention center, hopefully they hadn’t changed anything much recently, it’d been a long time since I had to bust into NAMM.

The door was much the same, unmarked and industrial, freshly painted but no less abused by time and the occasional over zealous Teamster. It didn’t budge when I pushed on it. Apparently security had gotten out of 1986 at least. If memory served it was just a push bar on the other side. Digging through my wallet I pulled out the Kroger Advantage card, not willing to sacrifice a credit card to this stunt.

“This is how you do it.” I wedged the card between the door and the frame, searching for the spring loaded latch that kept it from blowing open. I felt the metal with the card and simply jammed the card in, popping the catch. The door pushed open as easily as if someone hit the bar on the other side.

The vendor working the Chic-Fil-A lunch booth was a bit surprised at our arrival, but said nothing as he rotated the sandwich buns. Working NAMM he probably saw a lot worse. This side of the hall wasn’t much used, mostly school band shit and the people who couldn’t afford real booths.

Chris stepped in behind me. “At least fix your hair.” I pushed at the mop, trying to straighten the mess out. Chris shook his head and finger combed it for me, getting as much of it under control as he could. “You look like hell.”

He stepped back and I got a good look at him. A little worse for wear but Chris still looked great. If David was gonna keep playing hard to get maybe Chris would be down to fuck. Wasn’t every day I managed to sleep with someone half my age. I looked him over again, denim practically clinging to his thighs. “Thanks,” I said sarcastically. The cigarette and spiked coffee did more to help with my hangover than any of Junior’s cures. It had to be getting on noon, by the time I made it across the floor to the booth I might actually be on time. “Coming?”

There wasn’t much Chris could actually do. Without a badge he was shit out of luck and likely to get ejected. “Not yet,” he smirked, like Junior used to but with more intensity to it. Definitely down to fuck. “Hang on,” he stepped into my personal space and sank his fingers into my hair again, rubbing at my scalp as he tried to fix my hair. It wasn’t the only thing he was rubbing against me. He stank of sex; it lingered in his hair as my head nestled into his shoulder. Sweat, turning slightly sour but with the lightest touch of something sweet. Pot. I inhaled deeply as his fingers worked my scalp. I’d either fall asleep or come if he kept it up. Oh yeah, that was definitely some pot smoke on him. 

My arm went around his waist, holding him against me as I purred. Fuck whoever was watching and fuck Seymour Duncan. Something else just came up on my schedule.

“If you don’t stop now I’m gonna be late.”

Chris twisted a lock of my hair around his fingers and pulled gently, just enough to tug at the roots where he was massaging. “Since when does Dave Mustaine show up on time?”

He had a point that couldn’t be argued with. 

Chris looked around for something, hands still on my head. “Wanna check out the bathroom?” He pointed further down the wall, a large sign perched high on the wall above the booths.

“Hell yeah.” After a shitty morning today was suddenly looking up.

 

***************

 

I realized I’d dropped them off at the front door without passes. Oops. Dave would figure something out, either screaming until they let him in or sweet talking someone into bending the rules. He was good at stuff like that. They’d be ok.

We found Dave’s beanie underneath the nightstand. He never went anywhere without it these days. Poor Dave, phone dead, hair a mess, and hangover pounding away in his brain. Heh, good for him. Maybe he won’t drink as much again. 

Who was I kidding? When had a bad consequence ever kept Dave from doing something? 

Dave’s bag got handed of to Chris with instructions to hand it only to Dave. At least Chris could wander the floor and find Dave. I hated to lump him into the personal assistant role, but I didn’t have time to find Dave in the massive hall.

We parted ways at the hotel, Chris heading back to the convention after we rounded up a small bag of Dave’s things. Dave had forgotten his laminate in my room, his beanie, and his charging brick. Plus with my plan for Chris I stopped at my luggage and pocketed some more essentials. 

There was a time for work and a time for play, sadly as it crept ever closer to noon playtime was over. Chris seemed to understand this, walking off without complaint and promising to meet up with me after two o’clock. There was an hour between my signings, just enough time to get into some real trouble.

The Hartke signing was usually over and done quickly. Hartke should have drawn a bigger crowd with the quality products they had, but it was hard breaking people away from their Ampegs and Peavys. My buddy Mark Menghi was there like always, running around the booth like crazy. Chris should be here, Mark would be someone interesting for him to meet up with. As would the line up of bassists at the table, amazing we could all come together at the same time again. 

Occasionally I saw Chris wander past the booth, never more than a quick wave or a nod of his head. Once he walked past with the other Chris, deep in conversation. He was keeping it close to the booth, waiting for two o’clock to roll around. I kept looking at my watch between photos. We all had our hands full with autographs and fans, the carefully controlled line snaking down the hallway and out of sight. 

The Behringer booth loomed tall a few spots down. Perfect. I hoped the stairs were still there. The booth haunted me, leaving me with my fantasies.

 

*******************

 

I was only a few minutes late to the Seymour Duncan booth, Chris dragging behind me like an infatuated puppy. Without a badge he was pretty much stuck with me. After showing me what he could do in the toilet stall I really didn’t mind having him around. Plus he was easy on the eyes, always a benefit.

He sat at the back while I signed and made nice with the public. Photos, shit, well, not much to be done at this point. At least my face had some color to it now. The fucked up hair and gray stubble were unavoidable. There were enough Periscope videos of me where I looked similar or worse. Forty years of drug abuse and I wasn’t expecting myself to look like Mr. Universe. 

The next time I looked back Chris was gone. Serves me right. I finally find a hot piece of ass and off he goes. I turned my attention back to the crowd, smiling and signing and dealing with humanity’s bullshit, knowing I could cut and run when this was over. 

I wasn’t sure how he and the other Chris managed to get past security half an hour later, but Chris was passing my beanie to me followed by the charging brick for my phone. 

“Aaah, dude, thanks.” The beanie quickly covered up the worst of my hair and I plugged my phone in, setting it under my seat to charge. I saw his pass swing from his neck - he must have gone back to the hotel. I owed him a case of beer.

Before I knew it a can in a coozy was being pushed into my side. Coors Light. Fucking ‘a. Chris was on his shit, that was for sure. “Chris, man...” Physical displays of affection were off limits in public, but his lips twitched and I wanted to do nothing more than bend down and personally thank him. The beer would certainly make the last hour pass a bit easier. 

“Found it in one of the hospitality rooms. Don’t thank me too much,” he whispered at me before slinking off to his friend. Chris’ jeans were still tight to his ass, this time showing off a phone and a wallet.

The hospitality rooms were restricted to just about everyone, how he managed to get into one... So he did have an edge of mischief to him. Intriguing. 

I wondered if I could bribe the other Chris into holding down the fort for a few minutes. These metal folding chairs were not doing anything to ease my condition and I kept forgetting to apply the medicated cream to my backside. I hoped no one noticed I was squirming and shifting in my seat a lot. Maybe I could get Chris to kiss it better later. Looking back I saw him watching the crowd. A few people did double takes when they saw him hanging at the edge of the pipe and drape. Amusing to no end to watch them gape then start to wave, only to stop with their hand half way up when they saw it wasn’t Junior.

Managed to count fifteen of ‘em before it wasn’t fun anymore.

Absently I wondered how much publicity I could get if I showed off Chris to the public. Some front page coverage would be good for us between albums. 

The pair took off with a small wave, hopefully going to get me another beer. Or a smoke. I wanted another cigarette, well aware I shouldn’t start up again. Pam would kill me. Even Chris’ cheap cigarette had tasted so good, Marlboros or Newports would probably make me orgasm.

What had Junior said? Good orderly direction. No cigarette for me now, couldn’t smoke in here anyway. I just had to make the right choice for a little bit longer.

When did I ever listen to the rules?

 

******************

 

I was chatting to Rex Brown when security stopped the line of autograph seekers. There were always people at the end of the session hanging around, wanting more time with us. Normally this was great, I loved meeting people and giving back to the metal community. I was on a time crunch right now, Jackson signing started at three, and it was... I checked my watch. 2:07. Where the heck was Chris?

Rex seemed to notice I really wasn’t paying full attention to our conversation, watching in silence as Chris found me and cut his way through the crowd, carefully slipping past everyone in his way.

“Hey,” Chris called when he got within arms reach.

“Chris, hey.” I grabbed on to his wrist and pulled him to me, the only way the burly looking security guard would back off. Chris flipped his hair and sent the red mop out of his eyes. “This is Rex, this is Chris.” It was time to pull Chris into a bit of my reality. 

Hands were shook after I introduced them. Rex’s eyes darted back and forth between us as Chris hung just a little too close to my side. Rex scratched at his scalp and stared at Chris. Maybe he knew Chris was wearing one of my shirts?

“Nice to meet you,” Rex said with his Texas twang. “David, can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Yeah, sure.” I pulled away from Chris for a minute, stepping closer to Rex. “What’s up?”

“You, aaah,” he looked over at Chris, who was looking around the Hartke booth and trying not to eavesdrop. “You know what you’re doing?”

“Well, yeah,” I smiled broadly. “We’re just friends.”

Rex looked over at Chris again. “Well, all right, I ain’t about t’get up in your business.”

I looked over at Chris. Maybe it was the set of his shoulders or the little bit of curl at the end of his hair. I always was a sucker for a redhead.

Rex shook his head. “Does Mustaine know?”

“Know what?” I asked without looking back at him. Chris noticed my gaze and smiled, no longer pretending to watch the crowds.

“Right,” Rex drawled.

“I gotta go,” I said as I checked my watch. Time was wasting away. “Another signing at three.”

“Betcha do.” Rex clapped my arm and wandered away, leaving me with Chris.

“Hey, you got a few minutes?” I knew Chris did, unless there were booths he wanted to visit. He did have a weekend planned before we met up. Anxiety started to burn in my stomach.

“Coffee?” His eyes lit up like a puppy. Coffee sounded good, but it wasn’t what I wanted.

“Better.” I grabbed his wrist again and started pulling him through the crowd so we wouldn’t get separated. “C’mon.”

The Behringer booth wasn’t far and I snaked my way across the busy main lane that acted more like freeways in the bustling hall. We circled around the garishly yellow booth until I found the roped off set of metal stairs I was looking for.

“Behringer? Man, they suck, I hate their stuff.”

“Ssssh,” I quieted him. It was really rude to be insulting, especially if you really planned on taking advantages of their courtesy. “Wanna see my patchbay?”

“Had a power conditioner blow out on me during a gig. Never happened since I switched to Furman,” Chris kept on grumbling.

There was a booth jockey manning the stairs, keeping the riff raff out. There were several booths with second levels, all for large buyers or stars. It wasn’t often I threw my name around, but sometimes it came in handy.

“Hello,” I nodded to the quasi-security guard, who unhooked the clip and let us up the stairs. I didn’t dare let go of Chris’ hand, he might look like Mustaine but it wasn’t exact.

Truth be told I didn’t use Behringer either, usually preferring the real thing over a poorly engineered knock off clone. The stairs were narrow, clinging to the inside of the booth and minimizing on space. My head broke floor level and I looked around.

Empty. Perfect.

Small groupings of tables and chairs with the occasional couch were cluttered haphazardly into the decking, a solid railing prevented any accidental falls over the edge. It gave a pretty good view of this section of the convention. Unless someone was looking up for a hanging sign their gaze was never focused up off the floor. 

“Score,” I whispered mostly to myself and pulled Chris up the last few stairs. He was gonna love this. “Check this out.”

Quietly he walked to the edge, leaning against the railing as he looked down over everything. There were better spots of course, rooms between the floors and some more private meeting areas that were off limits. They had doors and walls and none of the risk. 

“Cool,” Chris watched as people scuttled around. “This is almost as good as the view from the hotel.”

My hand that seemed to live around his waist dropped to his ass, getting in a good feel while he was bending over the rail. “There is a reason I brought you up here.”

Chris arched his back, pushing his ass into my palm. “So where’s this patchbay of yours?”

I laughed and grabbed at his butt. “I forgot it at home. Darn.”

“Oh well.” He stood up and pressed me against the railing. “I think I found something else to do instead.” His arms went around my neck.

“Yeah?” I breathed as he loomed closer, obviously going for a kiss.

“Oh yeah.” He pulled me closer and kissed me, quickly licking at my lips and twisting his tongue with mine. He was hard already and shamelessly rutting against me. Guess the whole being in public thing really was a turn on for him. It was my lucky weekend.

My spine hit the railing, Chris pushing me back until I couldn’t move any further. His hands roamed across my shoulders. Something in his touch always set me off. I tightened my grip around his waist, one hand still on his ass and squeezing. His teeth nipped at my lips, smiling as he bit playfully.

“You sure you want to do this here, with everyone walking around?” Chris shivered, looking over my shoulder to the venue floor below. “You make a noise and everyone’s gonna look up here.”

He buried his nose in my throat and nuzzled. “Want them to see what I’m gonna do with that big cock of yours.”

I smiled. Flattery will get you everywhere. “Yeah? What do you want to do to me?” My hand grabbed his ass cheek and pushed him into my hips, our jeans rubbing together.

“First, I’m gonna stroke you and get you nice and hard.”

He didn’t have to worry about that, my dick recovered from its workout last night and this morning and was ready to go again.

“Then I’m gonna get on my knees and suck you. I want your cock in my throat as I swallow and work a finger up your ass.”

That sounded nice, I could see that happening. 

Chris dragged his scratchy stubble down the side of my throat. “Then I want you to fuck me over the rail, hard. I want people to look up and point at us as we both come.”

The hand that was on his ass crept up his back and grabbed the ends of his hair, pulling his face away from my neck and the spot he was sucking on. 

“So you want to get caught?” His nose flared and his eyes sparkled, maybe he wasn’t as innocent as I’d thought. “You want to get caught riding my dick.” I smiled and tugged harder on his hair. The devious Scorpio side of me was down for any sort of kinky stuff and wanted to tear his clothes off right now.

I let go of his hair and he rolled his neck, working out the strain. “Take your shirt off.” With a quick flip the shirt was over his head, landing on the decking. God, he was gorgeous. The work trained muscles shifted under his pale skin, auburn hair dusting his chest as he stood under my gaze. 

My hands let him go, wrapping around the pipe railing instead. This was going to try my patience as well as his.

“Unzip me. Take my cock out.” He did as I told him, fingers quickly working on my jeans and reaching into my underwear, pulling my length out through the fly. “Stroke me,” I told him as he waited patiently for directions. Fuck, I was so hard, again...

Chris’ hand wrapped around me tightly, squeezing before tugging. His thumb and pointer finger formed a circle, snug against my flesh while his other fingers curled around, lightly trailing behind the tight circle. 

His forehead rested against mine as he jerked me, eyes never leaving mine. My hands gripped the railing, holding on for dear life. Occasionally his lips found mine and our noses would be crushed together. His fist thumped against my pelvis, hand backwards from the way I jerked myself off. His pinky finger rubbed at my frenulum, the little bridge of flesh that joined my shaft and head at the bottom. Fuck, that felt good. I licked at his lips and nipped with my teeth, hot breath getting trapped in the curtains of hair.

I managed to grab on to his tongue and suck it, waiting for him to get the unspoken message. When he sucked in a breath quickly and forced my jaw open with his tongue I knew he’d gotten the order. Grabbing hands and nipping teeth moved across my jaw and down my throat, pausing to bite on a nipple through my shirt before skating down across my belly.

Chris kneeled at my feet, his warm brown eyes staring up from underneath those red eyebrows as he stroked me a few more times. It was a quick lick of his plump lips and his tongue cradled the head of my cock, red lips wrapping around the tip and sucking before taking the head inside his heat.

I wanted nothing more than to grab his hair and fuck his mouth, forcing my cock down his tight throat, but this was a lesson for both of us. Instead I gripped the metal pipe, the barest thrust of my hips encouraging him to take more of me inside him. 

Chris held me by the base of my cock, keeping me from thrusting too far. His fingers were always moving, tongue always swirling around, searching out nerve endings as he sucked. Teasingly slowly he took more of my cock, lips replacing his fingers in a tight circle that constantly moved.

“Fuck, Chris, suck me.” His eyes smirked as he lapped at the underside of my head. I was dying not to grab his head and fuck his mouth. If he went any slower I would miss the Jackson signing. Maybe that was his plan...

 

******************

 

I never did get my cigarette. Actually, we were on our way outside when I literally ran into an idea. Someone had fallen off their impressive but impractical platform heels and knocked me into a display. Of course I was the asshole for snarling at her (or him, whatever it was), but it banged up my already sore neck. At least it was a large booth, a second story reaching up towards the ceiling. It would be a great place to hide, normally the upper decks were locked up. I could get away from these idiots and stretch my neck out without anyone looking on. Last thing I needed were more photos showing me as a fucking cripple.

“Hey Chris,” I called and waived him over. Along the side there was a small staircase closed off with a little rope. Heh, obviously the rope was there to keep other people away, not me. They’d be pissing their pants to get a photo of Dave Mustaine sitting at their booth, even if I didn’t use their stuff.

Chris followed me up the narrow staircase, leaving behind the commotion from the transvestite with the twisted ankle.

Someone moaned, and not the beast in the heels. I paused on the steps and looked back at Chris. He only shrugged. How bad could it be? I’d peek my head over the edge and see what was going on. It was some fat pig I’d just turn around and leave, but if she was hot... I wasn’t so old I couldn’t appreciate a bit of a show.

I listened closely as I climbed the last few stairs. Those sucking noises were unmistakable. If Chris hadn’t just blown me before the last signing I would probably get wood from just listening. He’d turned down my offer to reciprocate; maybe he’d let me taste him now.

Slowly I peeked over the floor. If she was ugly I didn’t want to see too much. First I saw two bodies, the standing one obviously getting a blow job. When I looked a little closer it looked like Junior. Shit, it looked exactly like Junior. My jaw dropped open. I thought he would have gotten enough last night.

And shit, that was no chick before him. Even from the back it looked like the other Chris. What the fuck was David doing? I would have blown him again, all he had to do was let me know.

Chris tried to slip behind me and snoop over my shoulder. I don’t know about him, but the thought of ever seeing my old man getting freaky made me ill. No one wanted to see their dad getting some, doesn’t matter if they raised you or not. I reacted by putting my hands over his eyes much like I would have done to my kids when they were little. 

He reached up and pulled my hands from his face, eyes darting over my shoulder and up the stairs. “Ssssh,” I hissed at him. Fine, if he caught sight of David’s junk, that’s his problem.

Shit, I totally forgot him and Chris were in a band together. Maybe they were banging too, fucking gays. David wouldn’t be angry, but Chris was an unknown. Maybe they were serious, maybe they weren’t even fucking. Shit. I tried to shuffle him back down the stairs but was met with an immovable block. He’d heard the moans and breaths, obviously as curious as I had been. I shook my head no despite my aching neck. He didn’t want to look. Really.

I always got the fucking stubborn ones. He only grinned and nodded yes, holding me by the shoulders as he stepped up the last few treads that would bring him up over the floor. He stood on his tiptoes instead of climbing one step higher than me. Chris didn’t clench my shoulders as he watched. He seemed to accept the view. Maybe they weren’t like that after all and were really just friends. 

He did press against me, pushing me into the thin metal wall of the stairway. No matter what the situation he still smelled good. I grabbed his waist, steadying him. Wouldn’t be good if he fell down the stairs and landed on the drag queen. His arms stretched up and his fingers curled over the carpet, just peeking over the edge. I could count his ribs through his shirt.

Chris lowered himself back out of sight, sliding down my body until we were on the same step. “Ellefson’s getting head,” he whispered at me with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Don’t ya wanna watch?”

I was torn. I wanted very much to watch, but I was hurt that it wasn’t me on my knees. I’d rather not be watching actually. No, I wanted to watch. I could always pretend it was me and it would give me enough jerk off material for months.

It was my turn to wrap my fingers over the edge of the rough carpet and pull myself up. My eyes barely cleared the decking, hopefully quiet enough that David wouldn’t notice us on the stairs. Chris was on his knees, using both hands and his mouth on David who was, for some reason, holding the railing. That wasn’t his thing. Those hands should be tangled in those long locks, pulling and guiding, fingers digging into his scalp. 

My neck was having none of hanging and I had to take the next step up. Muscles in my neck and shoulder immediately relaxed, but David’s sharp eyes caught the slight movement, focusing in on me as Chris continued to work him. My Chris crowded me against the wall again, plastered to my back and hiding behind me. His chin rested on my shoulder - he wasn’t hiding from anyone.

Junior kept eye contact with me as he let go of the railing, shaking out his hands as if they were cramped. Those hands sank into the billows of Chris’ hair, pulling most of it up against the crown of his skull. Little tendrils slipped between his fingers, framing Chris’ head and rocking with every bob of his head.

David cradled his skull and leaned down slightly, speaking to Chris too softly for me to hear. I could see Chris’ shoulders tense and David respond by dragging his fingertips across his scalp. When David straightened up, he looked me straight in the eye and bit his lip. He was planning something, and knowing David it would be good.

“What’s happening?” Chris bounced impatiently behind me, the few inches making a large difference on the stairs. He stroked over my belly as he waited, leaning against me as he occasionally went up on his toes. “I wanna watch,” he pouted quietly.

“I think our other halves hooked up.”

“Fuck, I wanna watch.” Again he rubbed against me, grinding his hips into my ass. “Chris gives great blowjobs.”

High praise coming from someone who was talented in his own right. “You’re pretty good yourself.” I could feel Chris smile into my hair, his hands sliding even lower, over where my belly pudge ended and flattened out into pubis. 

“Want me to suck you again?” Chris offered as he groped me. As tempting as the offer was...

“SSsshhhh, just watch.” 

David was still holding Chris’ hair, guiding his motions as he watched me and Chris bicker. When he had my line of sight again he pushed on the back of Chris’ head and pushed his own hips forward. He had to have hit the back of his throat; David wasn’t exactly on the small side. Fingers tightened around the cloud of hair and held Chris firmly, David rocking back and forth. Shit, that was hot watching him take control. I knew what it felt like to have him ram himself into my throat and pull at my hair.

Between a horny Chris at my back with his erection pressed into me and the show going on across the booth it wouldn’t take much to get me hard again. Chris seemed bound and determined to get at my dick, once was obviously not enough. Heh, once you go red you never go back. With my eyes on the other couple I reached behind myself and pulled Chris closer, rubbing my ass against his cock. He growled and licked at my neck, lips stopping to suckle occasionally on a random spot. 

It was difficult to watch David with Chris’s lips on me. He had to have seen Chris hovering over my shoulder. I wished I could have had a better view. Chris’ pale skin covered David from the navel down, all the really fun bits obscured as David fucked his mouth. I remember the feeling; on my knees and eyes closed, David taking care of everything, all I had to do was breathe and cover my teeth.

It hadn’t been that enjoyable since we broke up.

David released Chris’ hair, letting it fall down his back in a copper curtain. It was darker than mine, maybe only a shade or two, but it had a straightness that I envied. 

“Did you suck him off a lot?”

I turned on Chris, ready to kill him for interrupting my thoughts. He pulled away slightly, not quite letting go but putting some space between us. 

“Dude, sorry, just asking.”

Maybe it was the big eyes, or the long nose and familiar mouth. He looked innocent enough in his question. “I’m not gay.”

He had the nerve to grope the front of my jeans, cupping his hand around my cock. “That’s cool,” was all he said, dismissively.

I harumped and turned back to the show again. Chris’ hands never left me, kneading my dick and trying to coax it back to hardness. Oh man, David was still getting blown, but had his head tipped back, leaving that thin neck on display as he groaned and grimaced in pleasure. His deep voice used to rumble through his chest - you could feel it if you had your head resting on his stomach.

Chris worked on my zipper, getting the tab pulled down and sliding both of his hands between my jeans and underwear. His cock rubbed against my ass. It was nice being stroked and caressed, lulling me into an aroused relaxation. If I closed my eyes I could easily pretend it was David touching me and not...

“I hate this, its gotta go,” Chris said as he pulled at my beanie. My hair fell everywhere as he dropped the hat to the floor. I pushed the dirty hair off my forehead and out of my eyes. Junior was watching us, nodding at me before I turned to Chris again. “’S’fuckin’ better,” he slurred before kissing me. His tongue forced my lips apart and twisted with mine. The nerves in my neck pinched and I seized with pain.

“Shit, sorry,” Chris whispered as I tried to unfuck my neck. I was bending it to the side, trying to unkink it when his lip landed on my neck, kissing and sucking, using his nose to push my hair out of the way. Shit, spread eagled and pressed against a wall by Chris’ cock was a dream turned into reality. Hands rubbed at me, pulling my hips away from the wall and back into his hard on. Fucker was already grinding against me, like he was going to fuck me through my jeans.

His hand slipped under my underwear and wrapped around my aching cock. It made up for the pain in my neck. I sighed and dropped my head back on his shoulder. “Oh yeah,” I encouraged him. A thumb swept over the head of my cock, spreading the drop of fluid there back along my sweaty length. 

I cracked my eyes open at a groan from the decking. David had his jeans pushed down to his thighs, legs spread in full concert mode, both his hands on Chris’ head. One of Chris’ hands was obviously reaching back between David’s legs, fucking him with a finger judging by the motion of his arm. Plus the only time David flushed red like that was when his asshole was getting attention. He looked like he was struggling to keep on two feet. My asshole twitched with envy, this morning’s pain long forgotten. 

“Want me to suck you?” Chris dragged a long stroke down and pressed against my groin. “Imagine me swallowing around you, taking you all the way down here,” his fingers tightened around my root. “You know I’m good.”

One of my hands finally let go from the decking, meeting his hand in my pants and encouraging his hand to stroke me again. “What if I wanted to suck you?”

He really seemed to have not thought of that possibility and rippled with excitement. 

Carefully I pulled our hands out of my jeans and stood up. My back thanked me. “Why’n’cha sit on the step for me.”

It was only three or four steps higher, but the light was better and I could watch what David was doing. Chris sat in the middle of the step and spread his long legs, leaning back against the next step. Fuck that was hot, he looked like that favorite photo of David, where he was on the stairs in that apartment of his with all the rifles piled on him. Chris smirked teasingly, hair streaming down both shoulders and spilling onto his chest. With his long legs spread like that it was nothing but pure invitation.

 

********************

 

I had pulled Chris’ hair up in my hands and was holding the silken strands against his scalp. Some of the strands were still straight, others stubbornly reformed curls. Dave and Chris were peeking over the floorboards at us, Dave’s warm brown eyes flashing with something I hadn’t seen in a long time. Jealousy. Chris just looked on excitedly, probably unaware of the mess of half truths and unfinished business he’d walked blindly into.

For half a second I thought Dave would bound up the last few stairs and cause trouble, but a few well timed nibbles from the other Chris seemed to keep him in line. Dave tilted his head to give Chris more room, fingers still curled tightly over the edge. 

Carefully I eased Chris off my dick for a moment. “We’ve got an audience,” I whispered as I caressed his jaw.

His eyes widened and he pushed me back up, scrambling to get his lips on my cock again and suck. That tongue of his was heavenly, never stopped moving and seemed to know exactly where to lick and flick over. I wasn’t sure how long I was going to be able to stand up if he kept going at this pace. Holding onto the railing would mean letting go of his hair, something I wasn’t willing to do.

Dave and Chris would occasionally shuffle around on the steps, never coming up to floor level. It was a bit odd, maybe they thought they were being sneaky, but Dave knew I saw him there.

Chris started grabbing at my jeans, the small opening in the fly not enough for him. The button slipped from its hole easily, freeing up the denim for Chris to pull on. He got everything down to mid thigh before giving up and running his tongue along the big vein on the underside of my shaft. 

“Hold on,” he warned me but without context. I gathered his hair up again and piled it on the crown of his head. He held me in his hand but his mouth moved lower, sucking a testicle gently into his mouth.

My knees started to go as he lapped at it with his wicked tongue. I moaned wantonly and clung on for dear life, just trying to keep my legs underneath me. “Shit, Chris.” His lips pulled at the thin skin while his tongue rolled everything inside. A tight ring of fingers held me at my base. He knew exactly what he was doing, tighter and more erotic than a cockring but doing the same job. I felt my cock grow even bigger under his skillful touch, pulling the skin impossibly tight with the trapped blood. 

Then his mouth moved to my other nut. 

“Chris, fuck, shit, Chris...” His tongue flicked over sensitive skin, teasing me before sucking me in. I wanted to come badly, wanted to just shove my cock down his throat and make him swallow everything. I’d never thought I’d have a problem with stamina this late in my life. “Chris, Chris...” It was half moan, half begging. This much torture was surely illegal in most countries.

He pushed on my leg, forcing me into a power stance. Chris obscenely stuck a finger in his mouth and lavished it, running his tongue all around it while I watched and whimpered. With a smirk he reached for me, sinking his hand past my balls and between my parted legs. His finger reached my crease and searched out my asshole. I had to grab on to the rail, shit he _was_ trying to kill me. His finger stuck to skin despite the spit as he rubbed over my opening. It had been so long, not able to voice my needs to Julie.

Chris tried to wedge his finger into me, spit not the most useful lubricant. “Get the bag,” I managed to croak out. At least I had to foresight to grab up some supplies from the hotel room in case my plans for Chris actually came to fruition. 

The abused travel bag didn’t hold much, but for right now it held everything. I dug around and found the condoms, ripping two off the strip again and palming a small pile of the lube packets. A quick look over to Dave and his Chris was lying on the stairs with the top of Dave’s head barely visible further down. Weird, but ok.

I gave one of the condoms and a few packets to Chris, nudging him over towards his bandmate. I’m sure Dave hadn’t thought that far ahead while he was hungover.

God, the view as he walked away, stride thrown off by his erection. He had to kneel down to hand his friend the supplies, wordlessly nodding at each other in thanks.

I must have been quite the sight when he turned around. His eyes ran up and down me as he licked his lips and swallowed. Then again I was barely standing up, arms with a death grip on the railing, and all of my junk hanging out. It was quite the ego boost to be found attractive in spite of the extra years and miles.

Chris walked up to me like Dave at his most powerful, shoulders squared and forward, eyes trained on my body. I wasn’t quite sure when I lost control, but I knew it wasn’t my game anymore.

He growled as his hand clamped on the back of my neck and pulled my mouth to his. Hands were all over me again as his tongue invaded me, his weight crushing me back into the railing. Thankfully it held as he thrust himself against me, breath hot against my face. I kept my hands on the railing, the only thing that was keeping me grounded to some sort of reality at this point.

Without warning he pushed me back into the railing again, hard, pulling far enough away to catch a glimpse of sharp, white teeth and curled lips. Red hair sank past my dazed eyes as he fell south, landing on his knees between my spread legs. I watched, unable to catch my breath as he silently reached for one of the small silver lube packets, ripping off the end and squeezing a clear blob onto a finger.

Chris leaned forward again under his wave of hair and caught my cock with his tongue, circling around it before managing to suck it into his mouth without using his hands. Immediately his finger was prodding at my ass again, the cold lube easing his way as he searched for my hole and found it, pushing until he slid inside me.

My knees failed me, only my grip on the rail and Chris’ weight in front of me keeping me from falling over. He sucked and pumped his finger as I tried to stay upright, caught up in my jeans and lost in pleasure.

I felt the flush climb up my throat and fill my face, something Dave pointed out years ago. I couldn’t look down, couldn’t watch as Chris’ mouth slid down my cock, cheeks hollowing with each strong suck. I tipped my head back and moaned, eyes closed, barely seeing the bright lights on the ceiling.

It wasn’t fair. Another wave of pleasure rolled across me as his finger swept over my prostate. It was too soon. Not again like an embarrassed teenager. Shit, he was sucking it out of me, rubbing my prostate and swallowing over my head. His throat felt so good, so tight around me, pulling and sucking around me...

Until he wasn’t. Precome dripped from my tip in pulses as Chris stopped right before I couldn’t. I grabbed his hair and tried to force him on my cock, five seconds from coming and desperate for another touch of his lips and tongue. He had the strength to push me away, holding me until I calmed down and the worst passed.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered as I stroked his hair, amazed he left his head cradled in the crest of my hip. 

To my utter amazement he looked up and smiled through his swollen lips. So different from Dave at times like this. “Guess I pushed you too far.” His voice was rough, testament to just how badly I’d abused him. He coughed discreetly, clearing his throat. “Only one more thing I said I’d do.”

My hand stopped petting his hair, racking my mind trying to remember what he said.

He unfolded those toned legs, rising off the floor and wrapping his arms around my waist. “You don’t remember, do you?”

I could hazard a guess, starting to know the way his mind ran. “Oh, I remember.”

“Do ya?” He was turning us slowly, the gentlest sway he could move my hips to. “What was it?”

“Ummmm,” I hummed, stalling. “I remember something about bending you over the railing and riding my cock.”

“I like that plan.” His back was to the rail now, bare skin sticking to the smooth surface. Chris turned in my arms, finally releasing the hold on my hips. It was his turn to grab the railing, arching his back and sticking his ass into my cock. “Might be the best plan I had all year.”

“Your plan?” I held his hips this time as I rutted against him. His jeans were warm and rough and felt great against my cock. I watched his muscles ripple up his back and traced his spine with my hands. “This was my idea.” 

“Still a fucking great idea.”

On the trip back, I slid my hands down his flanks, circling around to find the buttons on his jeans, opening his fly and catching his cock in my hand.

Still no underwear.

Slut.

One of Chris’ hands pushed at his jeans, sliding them over his square hips. Both of us were tied up in our jeans, my boots too chunky for the jeans to slide over and Chris’ retro jeans waaay too snug.

My cock rubbed against his warm skin. As good as his jeans had felt, his flesh was so much better. Chris was moving with me, pushing and pulling himself on the railing. I looked over at the dwindling pile of lube packs, never intending on having to split half my stash.

I didn’t have much time anyway.

There was more in the big bottle in the hotel.

I grabbed another condom and a packet of lube, silently cursing the single pack of lube left. Hopefully I wouldn’t need it. My finger slid over his ass, feeling the invisible hairs stand on end in the cold air. I took a good grip of muscle and squeezed, prime meat like this was certainly to be savored.

Chris grunted impatiently. Guess I should stop dawdling. The condom went on methodically, lube sparingly applied to myself and finally Chris, spending a bit more time than clinically needed in applying the lubricant to his opening. His soft huffs were addictive, much like his kisses. 

Carefully I held myself and pushed inside him again, the long and slow slide feeling too good and too comforting. His breathing hitched underneath me as he adjusted, enjoying the burn of being stretched. I wouldn’t be able to be as rough as last night, the thrill of possibly being caught far sexier than thoughts of actually being escorted, half naked, outside of the building by security.

“God, Dave...” Chris said it like a prayer, whispered words spilling from his lips

I pulled back, feeling his muscles grip me over each inch. “If you want them to hear you, you’re gonna have to moan louder.” It was half teasing. I would give anything for a private room and a chance to really hear him at full volume. 

Chris let out a little grunt when my hips slapped against his ass. “Make me,” he hissed. More than willing to meet his challenge, I grabbed onto his hips, the rounded crests of his hipbones padded by powerful muscle. With a sneer that would have been at home on his face, I twisted my hips and thrust, pleased as his hair shook and slid across his back with each smack of skin on skin. 

He had to be biting his lip not to moan and groan. I had to up my game, dipping a hand over his hip and palming his cock, waiting for a moan to break through his control.

No luck.

Instead I latched on to his hair, combing my fingers through the tangles and pulling the red strands into a bundle. I leaned across his back and grabbed the base of his ponytail, pulling firmly on the rope of hair. 

“Fuck, yeah,” Chris finally sighed, arching his back and pushing into my hand.

Pulling harder I inched him up, dropping a sucking kiss on his shoulder as I fucked him. His back must have been at an uncomfortable bend, but he didn’t say anything. The benefits of youth. “Chris and Dave are watching you.” I didn’t know if they were, too focused on what I was doing, but knowing Chris enjoyed a good mental fucking as well as a physical one. “They see how well you’re taking my dick.”

His ass clenched around me and I knew I hit a nerve. “C’mon, they want to see you get fucked. They want to hear you. How is anyone gonna know how good you’re getting it if you’re quiet?”

It was enough to break a groan from his lips. His head was hanging over the rail, arms folded under him but still gripping on to the metal for support. It must have looked odd from below. Once the first moan was out the rest kept coming, each jab of my hips resulting in a grunt or a gasp.

I managed a quick look over to Dave and Chris, Dave on his back and Chris on top of him. Man, that was hot. Twice in two days I got a free show. 

“Chris is getting it. Bet he’s as good as you are.” His head lifted up, am arm pushing the hair away from his eyes. He whimpered and pushed back onto me before tossing his head back and sending his hair flying. Contractions rippled through him as he came, making me grit my teeth as I held still, unable to move. 

I caught him as his knees buckled, holding around his waist until he found his feet. It strained my back and I knew I’d really be feeling it later. With an experimental thrust I watched how Chris did, not too sensitive after his climax. “Chris...” I rocked into him again, less gently with each motion. He’d built me up only to stop too many times and I needed it, feeling the wave of tension rolling through me. I held on to him as I forced myself on him, reaching for the final peak.

Chris held still as my last thrusts jerked to a halt, finally coming with a howl of relief. If they didn’t hear him moaning earlier they certainly heard my shout. There wasn’t much else that sounded like skin on skin followed by a groan of pleasure.

I slumped against Chris, drained after coming so many times. His knees held and kept both of us upright until I could catch my breath. Separating from each other was never graceful, the necessary mechanics unpleasant and uncomfortable.

Stretching his back out, Chris grabbed at me and pulled me close again, kissing me lazily and leaning against me. The easy comfort was still there, Chris as desperate for touch as Dave was. Hopefully they didn’t share the same root cause. Chris seemed too happy to have all of Dave’s baggage.

“You alright?” It was barely a whisper, Chris’ face tucked into my neck.

“Yeah, you?” He made a noise and nuzzled closer. “Better get dressed.” Chris let go long enough to hike up his jeans, waiting for me to do the same. I steered us over to one of the small couches, it was small and uncomfortable, but neither of us had enough energy to stand up on our own. 

“Need a nap,” Chris muttered as he leaned heavily against me. It sounded like an awesome idea and I checked my watch. The Jackson signing could wait. There would be another one next year.

 

***********************

 

I ran my hands up the seam of his jeans, impossibly long legs joining up to slim hips and a small waist. Chris was so small, almost feminine in his bone structure. The bulge under his zipper was most certainly not feminine and drew my eye. He was definitely hard, and by what I felt earlier pretty well hung too. Looks like it was going to be my lucky day.

His head was back as I stroked his thighs, long thin neck and prominent Ellefson adam’s apple making for a delicious sight. I was going to eat him alive and enjoy every minute of it. Finally I let my hand lightly stroke across his stretched denim, his hips rising gently into my touch. Fuck that was hot. I stroked over swollen flesh again and got a small moan for my efforts. His hands were clenched at this side, fingers pressed tightly into his palms. 

His zipper caught part of the way down. I looked and some of the teeth were missing, ripped from their binding. It was a good excuse to run my finger down the warm metal, the blank spots suddenly obvious. 

Bored of teasing him, I reached in past his underwear and touched skin. Chris sighed and thudded his fists against the metal stair treads, my greedy eyes running up and down his young body. 

His hands unfolded and went to his waist, pushing at his jeans and sliding them over his hips and down his thighs. His cock sprang free against his belly, already red and angry looking. I pulled his jeans down to his knees, pushing his thighs apart as my mouth watered.

I had to remember this was Chris and not David. Chris might not like some of the stuff David was into, or used to be into. I’d have to stick to the more vanilla stuff for now. 

Grabbing one of his hands, I guided it down to his cock, pressing his fingers to unclench. “Touch yourself. Show me.” His head lifted and his gaze met mine, his eyes already clouded with fever. I pushed his hand at his cock, watching raptly as those long fingers circled his flesh and started to stroke. Shit, this was better than a porno and jacking off in the hotel room. I saw what he liked, tighter here, looser there, each stroke done under my watchful eye. 

“I like when you jerk it.” Still, I had to bat his hand away. Now that I knew a bit more I took him in my own hand and replicated his motions, tugging at his head and stroking down to his base. He wiggled like a fish out of water, pushing himself into my hand and lifting his hips from the floor.

A hand sank into my curls and twisted. I'd leaned a bit too close and he'd gotten a good grip. There was no gentleness to his pull as he guided my face to his cock. If he thought I was gonna blow him after that display he was in for a surprise. Instead I stretched, landing my face on the bottom of what could be a six pack if he worked on it a bit more. I thought it was perfect this way, soft with just a slight give as my lips pressed against his skin and suckled sweat. 

"Dave," he whined pitifully quickly. My hand was still working him - he was lucky he was getting that with the way he was twisting my neck.

I nipped at his stomach again, holding him down even as he tried to thrust into my fist. He pulled at my hair again, fingers tightening around the roots. It felt fucking awesome as he tugged, even if I didn't like him dragging me around like a chick.

There was only one way to stop his bullshit. I let him push my head down to his cock, catching his dick against my dry lips and sucking on his head. His skull thudded dully on the metal floor when my tongue swiped across his slit. "Shit, Dave..." Chris wiggled underneath me, trying to get me to move faster. Heh, that was familiar. Junior always made me wait when it was his turn to work, but when he wanted something...

My lips slid down his cock slowly, an inch with each bob of my head. And fuck if it didn't hurt my neck but it was worth it. His shirt clung to his ribcage, outlining where belly met chest, stretching taught with every shallow breath. Suddenly I wanted to see his nipples, wanted to see if they were as pointy as David's were, the little bit of extra swell giving them an almost feminine look.

I snaked a hand up his torso, tracing along a logo on his shirt and pinched at a nipple though the cotton. Oh yeah, his nipple was hard as I rolled it between my fingers. 

Chris' hand left my hair as someone knelt beside us. It wasn't Junior, he hadn't clodded over like a heard of elephants. A quick glance verified it was the other Chris before my eyes moved over to David, hanging on to the railing like his life depended on it. And my god... I slurped extra hard on Chris' cock as I drank in the sight. David's hair was a mess, his cock hanging out of his jeans as he looked totally bombed. He'd had a good romp, not as good as I could have done to him, but why not share while the opportunity presented itself.

Junior met my gaze before breaking away to watch as Chris walked back to him. That answered that question, leaving me with my Chris. He tapped me on the shoulder and held out a condom that I took from him. I wasn't about to let a nice cock like his go unsampled, so I ripped open the foil and used both hands to roll it down his length. 

"Hey, wait. What..." He'd gotten up on his elbows, watching as I finished wrapping him up - my little present to myself. I shut him up with a quick squeeze around his dick. 

"Get up," I ordered, repeating myself and nudging him after he only managed to look at me cross eyed. Chris got up quickly and I rolled myself down on to the carpet. Uncomfortable choice, but at least it was clean. A nice, plush hotel bed would have been a much better option. Too late for that. 

Chris awkwardly tried to shove one of David's KY Jelly packs into my hand; the guy was still too fucking cheap to buy the good stuff. The decking was already cutting into my back and the rough carpeting felt like a cheese grater. Chris had better fuck like a beast or I was gonna be really upset.

I pushed the lube packet back at him, the lazy fucker. I'd earned the right to be pampered and leave someone else with the sticky fingers. Chris didn't seem to care as he ripped into the packet and squeezed some of the gel onto his fingertips. I managed to get my jeans down my legs while he fussed with the lube. "Better get that warmed." I leaned back on the scratchy carpet as he loomed between my legs.

My skin contracted as ice cold fingers suddenly probed against me. Chris smiled evilly, something I hadn't seen out of David in years. Where had he kept those packets, Antartica? Fucking hell. "Sorry," Chris muttered with too much mirth. It warmed quickly and I was able to relax into his touch. David grunting and moaning across the room like the slut he was really got me ready to roll. Chris was still rubbing slowly, treating me gently. Fuck that, I wanted to fuck. 

"Chris..." I lifted myself up on my elbows. Chris' fingertip paused over my hole, no pressure against the muscle. "Just fuck me." I waited half a beat while he hesitated before I finally reached down and grabbed his hand, pushing his finger against me. His finger lost all stiffness and I couldn't push it inside.

Frustrated, I dropped his hand and grabbed on to his arms. My legs tried to wrap around him and pull him close. Sooner or later he'd get the hint. I managed to hook an ankle around him and pull him down, not that he fought too much.

Hair fell in my face as he landed on me. He couldn't have weighted a buck and a quarter if he had all his clothes on. We shuffled a bit and Chris stretched out, settling comfortably between my legs. I braced one foot on the stair and pushed up into him, the other leg still hooked around his hip and trapping him. Chris moved again and I felt his cock rub against my ass, watching as he shoved a hand between us.

He pushed against me and I could feel myself give, letting Chris fill me. Hungry lips landed on mine and I opened my eyes to find his green eyes staring down into mine. I swear they were brown earlier. David's did that too. "What the..." I broke our kiss and received a huff of hot breath for my troubles.

"You ok?" Chris whispered, nose bumping as he quickly swept his hair off my face. It let in a quick blast of oxygen before his hair flopped over again and dimmed the lights.

I had to relax my arms from where they'd wrapped around him and loosen my leg before a cramp started. Man, that was embarrassing clinging to him like that. "Yeah," I managed to get out. Chris levered up once I'd given him some room, holding himself still inside me. For a moment, I could have sworn it was David instead of Chris.

"You sure?" he asked with a look of concern. "You don't look ok." He'd gone still, the promise of a hard fuck drifting away as my heart caught in my throat.

I had to lean back into the carpet and put some space between us, Chris/David still filling my sight. "'M fine." Christ, I couldn't even convince myself. "Fuck me."

He smiled like no farm boy should be able to smile, his lips curling up devilishly while his eyes shone. A perfect row of straight white teeth gleamed. Bet they were expensive. He wrapped an arm around my thigh, taking some of the strain off my lower back and gently rocked back and forth once, eyes going round at the feeling. I knew I was good.

His lips fell on mine with surprising tenderness, tongue gently reaching out and caressing my lips before pushing inside. It was sloppier than the kiss had any right to be, a mess of tongue and spit and lips and teeth that set my head spinning and made my chest hurt. All that was missing was the thin mattress on the floor and that stained, worn comforter we used to have in the Sycamore apartment that he'd dragged from Minnesota.

With a grunt he started to move his hips, just short gentle thrusts. I sank my fingers into his hair, grabbing at his scalp and skull and trying to devour him. 

Shit, I had to breathe and broke the kiss again, not surprised when wet lips landed on my face, kissing my jaw and down to my neck, tongue dragging across stubble and teeth occasionally closing around thin skin. 

Smooth. His skin was so smooth. He'd never been able to grow any decent facial hair. With a growl he bit at my throat, those perfect teeth closing over the small surgical scar hidden by the top rated doctor. "D...aaah..." I cut off the moan as soon as I heard myself make it.

He didn't seem to notice my slip, ignoring it if he heard. Chris was hot, I wanted to fuck him, but if I closed my eyes... 

David curled around me, his thighs and hips supporting me as he leisurely slid back and forth. Pleasure grew with every movement, not the flitting thrill of fucking, blowing in like a tornado and gone thirty seconds later. David felt like a flood; slower, fuller, crushing in its weight. My arms circled around his smooth back, pulling him into me as I lifted my hips, always trying to speed him up while he stubbornly kept his pace. 

"Fuck," I breathed out instead of saying his name, hearing it only in my head. "Harder..."

His nose nudged against the side of my face and I twisted my neck to get my lips on him, pain all but forgotten with the touch of his skin. He cupped my face in his hands, resting on his elbows. Intimacy. The only thing that had ever been sacred in my life was that unexplainable connection with David.

Until I opened my eyes. Chris floated in front of me, so close to David that I closed my eyes again. It wasn't David. What had I done? Where was David? Chris slowed his already tame strokes when he felt the tears leak out from my eyes. I didn't want to do this anymore, why couldn't he just fuck me without being tender? I didn't deserve tenderness and care. My chest caved in and my heart fell somewhere near hell, stretched painfully between the second and fourth circles.

"Oh, Dave," he whispered, "Why?" He covered me like a blanket, warm and strong and everything I never let myself have. It only made me feel worse. "No, no, hush," he wiped away the tears, gentle as ever. I clung to him, anything to overcome the urge to run away and hide.

One good shake got a hold of me before I was able to clamp down. I could only let go in front of David, and this wasn't David. I wanted David. 

"What's wrong?" Chris was petting me now. Great. The small affection was something I let few people get away with; again it was a parody of anything that ever mattered in my life. I only shook my head, unable to even begin to explain years upon decades of shit that Chris had waltzed into.

It didn't hurt so much when I kept my eyes closed.

Chris started to pull away, disentangling himself and pushing. I grabbed on even tighter and pulled him back down, knowing I'd truly break if he left. I shook my head again, pushing my insecurities aside and opening my eyes. "Fuck me, Chris." Chris, not David. Chris. Fuck, yes. I could fuck all night and day, a body was a body. 

He looked hesitant, but stopped his movements and let me pull him close again. 

"I'm ok." I reassured myself as much as him, loosening my grip. I sucked the snot back into my nose romantically. He might not be David, but I'll be damned if I wasn't gonna fuck the little bastard while I had the chance. "I'm ok."

He raised an eyebrow, pulling fine creases taught around his eye. Fucking Ellefsons. I clenched my ass around his cock, pushing as many emotions as I could find out to pasture. They'd come back later but for now they had no business in my head. "Fuck me," I breathed in his ear, squeezing again and huffing as he snapped his hips against mine. "Yeah, like that."

Chris was back up to speed quickly much to my pleasure. His teeth dug into his bottom lip as he moved. The small caresses and kisses returned and like a fool I let myself melt into them, biting my own lip to keep my mouth shut. Moans and groans slipped out unavoidably, fucker knew what he was doing and did it well.

A grunt came from across the booth and we both looked over, David's ass dimpled from pushing into his lay. Good for him. Chris snarled and started pounding harder into me after his bandmate came. At least I wasn't the only one with issues.

I spread my legs wider, letting him sink in deeper. Chris rested his forehead against mine, moaning quietly with every stroke. His balls were slapping against me as fucked. David's answering groan spurred us on and I reached down between us to stroke myself. 

"Fuck," Chris dropped his lips and fed me breathy kisses. Our noses rubbed together as he worked. Between my hand and Chris filling me it wasn't going to last much longer. The carpet under my back was starting to burn, and the longer we stayed the more likely we were to get caught. 

Chris rolled my back up slightly, changing the angle as his thrusts stiffened. "C'mon," I urged him, running my knuckles against his stomach with every stroke of my cock. With a grimace he leaned his face against mine again and thrust deep, coming with broken jerks of his hips. I wasn't far behind, fingers twisting and milking myself to the beat of Chris' breathing. His weight on me felt good, and with his breath in my lungs and cock still buried up my ass I came.

 

*************************

 

"What time is it?" Chris' head rolled on my shoulder and he snuffled, sitting up on the couch and looking around. 

I'd fallen asleep too and panicked, quickly reaching into my pocket and fishing out my phone. 2:45. Must have not been asleep very long. I turned the phone to Chris and he nodded at the time, wiping at his face and stretching. "You'd better get going," he said with a yawn.

The couch wasn't very comfortable after all, and I had to stretch my back when I stood up. Too much activity in the last two days for these old bones to handle. I'd have enough time to hit the toilet and make the signing if I hustled it. Unfortunately, that meant that afterglow time was over. "Yeah," I agreed, still trying to get my head together.

Where was the coffee this year?

Chris nudged me and I watched Dave and his Chris slowly untangle and haul themselves up from the floor. Dave quickly looked at me and then grabbed his jeans, stepping into them and covering himself up. He circled around grabbing the rest of his outfit but I could feel his eyes on me the whole time.

My Chris had his back turned from the circus and I joined him, looking down over the railing and at the crowds of people. He wiped his hands on his thighs and stared at the carpet. "Guess it went over the edge," he smirked. Sure enough, there was no smear for the cleaning lady, nor spots on the carpet or railing. Oops.

Chris came over when he was dressed, Dave still struggling to get his hair up under his beanie. "Ready?"

"Yep," my Chris said, double checking that he'd picked everything up. I had a small bag with me now, combining it with Dave's stuff so only one of us would have to lug things around the convention. Slowly we all climbed down the stairs, standing in a circle at the bottom. 

"Gotta go this way," I pointed in the direction of the Jackson booth. Dave didn't have any other commitments so he could go back to the hotel, but I hoped Chris would follow me for just a bit longer. There were some more people I wanted him to meet. I liked him, I really liked him as a person and enjoyed his company even if I didn't think I could get hard again before dinner.

"Man, we're gonna hit it." Chris and Chris had drifted closer, standing side by side as my Chris dropped the bad news. "It's been a lot of fun, but..." Dave shifted to stand closer to me, mirroring the Chris' behavior. 

"No, that's cool." I was disappointed, but I was the interruption to their weekend and they probably had things to get to. "You've still got my number." Chris nodded. I had his number as well should I choose to make use of it. "Go have fun, I'll see you around."

Dave and his Chris weren't talking and I wondered what happened in the few minutes we had passed out. "Yeah, take care." He nodded at Dave and me and the younger men turned and started walking down the aisle, each of them reaching out to twine their fingers together as they got lost in the crowd.

"Can I ask you something?" I looked away from the disappearing pair and searched Dave's weather beaten face. He didn't ask to ask questions, usually he just barged ahead. I nodded, already feeling the weight of his worries.

"When did you..." He swallowed and choked off the rest of his question, eyes suddenly dropping to his shoes but not before I saw the sadness and grief in them.

There were a million things he could have asked. When did I start banging Chris? When did I see other men? When did I... Well, the problem with knowing someone for so long is you know them inside and out. You know their strengths, but also their weaknesses.

With one lone tear tracing down the side of his nose, Dave was turning blotchy from holding his breath. He needed to listen to me and not his internal monologue.

I smiled, relaxing at such an easy question. "I never did." I never stopped loving him, through all the shit and fights and everything. Slowly his head turned up and he faced me, another tear welled up and was wiped away before it could fall. It wasn't often that the self loathing and heartbreakingly lonely kid showed up, but when he did he looked to me as if I were the sun. It was a heavy weight most times. "I still do." 

It looked like he wanted to lunge at me, and he probably would have if we were alone. I set my hand on his upper arm and squeezed. Supportive, tactile, and comforting but mindful of the public. Dave was having none of it and pulled me to his chest, taking his knuckles to my scalp to make it look manly. I fake batted at the noogie, not at all trying to get away. Cameras could flash and it would just be 'those two' horsing around again, Dave treating me like a kid brother and keeping me in line. He held me a second before pushing me away, all carefully orchestrated even though the whole gay stigma died out years ago.

"Don't you have a signing to get to?"

"Yeah, wanna come with me?" I tossed the idea out, knowing he wouldn't and he'd probably be on the next plane back to Nashville.

He shrugged, still looking a bit lost in his shoulders. "I guess." It was hard to conceal my surprise as he started walking us deeper into the massive hall. "Just no more cover bands, ok?"

 

***************************

 

David said he still loved me. I fucking love NAMM. Best. Weekend. Ever.  



End file.
